Re-Crossing
by DeeCee1430
Summary: Another "what if" alternative to The Crossing.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Person of Interest or any of its characters.

A/N: This is my first ever fanfic and all of the mistakes are mine. I've been reading it forever and love this fandom. I'm always thrilled when I see a new POI story, especially from all of the Careese writers. This is set after The Crossing. Devil's Share did not happen.

Chapter One

Detective Lionel Fusco stood alone on the deserted street outside of the third precinct. It was around one in the morning and eerily quiet as a snow storm blew into the city. About an inch of snow had already accumulated, and he was thankful it covered the dark stain where his partner had bled out a mere three weeks before. He shivered pulling his khaki colored overcoat tighter around his body, attempting to shield himself from the cold weather and the cold feeling of loss being back at this place.

Lionel tried not to think about what he found that night when he arrived. Carter had told him she was going to expedite the release of their mutual friend. He was not far behind her when she left the eighth. He had made a quick detour to pick up Lee from hockey practice.

_When Lionel arrived, John was hunched over Carter's lifeless body. Finch had pulled the town car next to the curb, the backdoor open, awaiting a passenger. Finch tugged at John's arm, desperately pleading with John to get into the car. John would not budge, only grasping Carter tighter, his head leaned down over her, shoulders wracked by sobs. Lionel did not think he had ever seen someone so inconsolable. He pulled out his cell phone and grimly called 911 reporting the shooting, barely able to utter the words "Officer down." He walked over and crouched down beside John. He firmly pried John's bloody hands from Carter's lifeless body. "I've got her." Lionel gently placed her body on the pavement and put one of John's arms around his shoulder. Finch took the same position on the other side. By this point, John was incoherent from blood loss and grief, making their mission easier. They deposited John's body unceremoniously into the backseat. Lionel slammed the door and turned to Finch. "Get him out of here."_

_As the black town car pulled away, the incessant ringing of the payphone finally stopped. Lionel could hear the faint strains of sirens in the distance. He pushed the hair from Carter's face and froze. His hand had brushed her nose and he had felt a soft, warm breath. "Carter." Lionel bent down to listen and could hear a soft gurgling. He checked her pulse. It was weak, but her heart was still beating. He yelled as the ambulance pulled up not recognizing his own desperate voice. "Over here."_

Lionel swiped at the moisture that sprang to his eyes at the memories. She coded twice in the ambulance and made it into surgery only to die on the table. After all they had been through, Simmons won. He took away the best of them. Lionel turned as he heard the crunching of tires on freshly fallen snow. The black town car pulled to a stop. Finch exited the driver's seat while Shaw slid out of the passenger side.

Finch looked down, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "This is a rather morbid place for a meeting, Detective."

"I had to do something to get your attention. It's been radio silence since Carter's funeral, and I want to know what's being done to hunt down Simmons. Where's Wonderboy?"

Finch fidgeted at the mention of his partner. "John is . . . unavailable."

"What do you mean unavailable? This should be the number one priority. After all she did for you two. For all of us. How is it you can save all of these random people, strangers? But she gets gunned down in the street on his watch."

Shaw cleared her throat. "Lionel, Reese has disappeared of his own design. If he ever resurfaces, it won't be before he has eliminated Patrick Simmons."

"Well, I'm not going to sit around and do nothing. I'm finishing what Carter started. As much as I despise that piece of garbage, I'm bringing Simmons in and he is going to pay for what he's done. Death is too good for him. He is going to rot in Rikers and I'm going to slam the cell door shut myself. So are you two going to help me?"

* * *

Jocelyn Carter's eyes felt as if they were glued shut when she tried to force them open. She could hear a steady, constant beeping as she blinked against the dim light coming from a bedside lamp. She gasped in surprise when she found she was not looking at the expected stark walls of a hospital room. She was definitely in a hospital bed with hospital equipment, but the rest of the furniture was wrong. The floors were a polished mahogany, and there were tall windows covered by heavy brocade tapestries. She could barely see the inky blackness of a night sky through a slit in the heavy curtains. Light from a distant street lamp shined in the distance revealing white, fluffy snowflakes collecting on the windowsill. Her arm was in a sling and breathing, much less moving, was painful. Simply turning her head made her feel as if she wanted to give in to the warm comfort of unconsciousness.

Suddenly she heard a door creak and a blond head peek inside the room. The woman's eyes widened and she swiftly shut the door. Carter started to call out but found that her throat was so parsed she could not make a sound more than a barely audible croak. The beeping of the heart monitor sped up as Carter steadily grew more alarmed at her unfamiliar surroundings. Could she be in one of Finch's safe houses? That would be the best case scenario. She did not want to think of the many worst case scenarios.

Her eyes snapped to the door as a voice said "Nice to see you awake, Detective. While you've been sleeping, the game has gotten very interesting indeed."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Person of Interest or its characters.

A/N: Thank you so much for the warm response. I really appreciate all of the kind reviews. I've been reading the stories of many of you who reviewed for so long (and reviewing as a Guest). Here is a short one and will probably be the only update until the weekend. And sorry, no questions answered quite yet but isn't the suspense a big part of the fun? Thanks again to all of the reviewers, followers, and favorites!

John Reese wandered the quiet streets of Brooklyn watching the snowfall. It was twilight and quite a few people were braving the snow and cold, finishing Christmas shopping or meeting family for dinner. He looked up as he heard the laughter of a young girl, not older than four. She was bundled from head to toe, her mitten clad hand tucked safely in her mother's as they crossed the icy street. Reese stood watching the girl hop with excitement, her pigtails peeking out from beneath her pink wool hat. He shook his head trying to bring himself out of a daze. He was stunned by the child's laughter; her joy felt foreign to him. Life was moving on around him. People went about their everyday activities as if nothing had happened three weeks ago.

Running gloved hand through his disheveled hair, John continued down the street with no destination. He almost did not notice the phone buzzing in his pocket. After leaving Finch's safe house two weeks ago, he had destroyed his phone and ear piece. The burner phone now buzzing in his pocket was for one specific purpose. Only one person had this number.

He answered the phone without greeting. "Are you ok?"

The voice on the other line hesitated. "I need to see you."

"When and where?" John listened to the destination, grimacing at the chosen meeting place. "I'll be there within the hour. Are you sure you're safe?"

The caller responded, "I'm fine. See you soon."

John took a deep breath and changed directions, walking at a brisk pace. He needed to see with his own eyes that the person on the other line was in fact fine.

* * *

Harold Finch felt even more unsettled after their meeting with Detective Fusco the previous night. He had been keeping a constant vigil at the Library since Detective Carter's death. The demise of HR had kept the numbers coming, non-stop. The few members of HR that had managed to dodge the FBI were desperate to tie up loose ends. The Russians were in a tailspin now that Yugorov was in custody, and Elias remained an unpredictable player in this overly complicated and deadly chess match.

He had sent Shaw out to save who she could but even with her exceptional skills, she was only one person. They were down one very important asset. Harold had tried every alias John had ever used, attempting to turn up some lead as to where their wayward friend had disappeared. Harold knew that his best chance of finding John was to find Simmons, but Simmons had yet to surface. Between numbers, Shaw had tried to chase down the few leads Harold managed to find, but Simmons had kept tight lipped regarding any exit strategy. If anyone knew, Harold had yet to locate that person, but something told Finch that Simmons still had unfinished business in the City. As much as John wanted Simmons, Harold had the ominous sense that the feeling was mutual. Simmons was not leaving the City until he finally eliminated "The Man in the Suit. Harold only hoped he could find one or the other first. John was in no physical or emotional condition to take on Simmons alone.

Rubbing his tired eyes and setting his glasses next to the monitor, Harold took a sip of his lukewarm Sencha tea. Stiffly, Harold leaned down to scratch Bear behind his ears, always the loyal friend at his post. Softly, Harold whispered "Oh, Bear. How did it all come to this?" A sudden beep broke the eerie silence, startling Harold Finch from his reverie. The Machine had a new number.

* * *

Sam Shaw walked into the library as Finch placed another large stack of books on the table in front of his dry erase board. She had not seen so many books out of place since the night the Machine provided the thirty-eight numbers of HR. Finch returned to the stacks, unaffected by Shaw's sudden appearance. Shaw broke the silence. "Care to explain, Finch."

"I don't know that I can, Ms. Shaw. At least not yet."

"How many numbers, Finch?"

"That's just it, Ms. Shaw. This appears to be one number, but it is a pattern of which I'm unfamiliar. It is clearly not our typical social security number. It is far too long to be a driver's license number or even an immigration number. It makes no sense." Finch groaned in pain as the inflammation from his old injury flared in his back. He knew he had been spending too many hours here, but he felt a sense of duty to continue the good fight—for their fallen friend and for their friend who had lost his way.

Shaw leaned over to look at the monitor Finch had vacated. She noticed the mug of tea and a prescription bottle for "Harold Wren" sitting behind a stack of papers. Holding up the bottle, she noted the medication name and shook it. The rattling of the bottle drew Finch's attention.

"You're looking like death, Finch. Have you taken any of your pain meds lately?"

Finch huffed, "I have no time for pain or medication, Ms. Shaw. I-." Finch froze mid-sentence. He limped over to Shaw, snatching the bottle from her hand. He carefully counted the numbers on the prescription bottle and noted the sequence and breaks in the pattern. "Ms. Shaw, that's it! The number is a prescription number. I just have to find the person associated with the prescription. That's the new number."

"Seriously, Finch. The Machine gave us a prescription number." Shaw muttered under her breath, "I think the Machine is slipping."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Person of Interest or any of its characters.

A/N: Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, favorited, followed and sent PMs. You are awesome. So here is the next chapter a little early. Sorry but we don't see Joss this chapter but she will be a big part of the next so hang with me. This will ultimately be a Careese fic. I've added dates so that flashbacks don't get too confusing.

Chapter 3

December 6, 2013

John stood outside the diner lost in memories. On his last visit, he was meeting a different Carter. He could remember that first time he had met her there. She was sitting in her favorite booth, three from the back, a wary eye on the front door. He came from the rear of the restaurant and wordlessly slipped into the booth across from her. She was full of bravado that first official meeting, demanding to know what they did and boldly telling him she had rules that could not be broken. Now he peered into the warmly lit diner, his breath frosting the window. He could see Taylor sitting in that very same booth, an expression similar to his mother's as he perked up every time the Christmas bells on the door jangled, indicating another patron had entered or left into the cold night air.

The last time John had spoken to Taylor he had made a promise—one he was unable to keep. He had dreaded this meeting with Joss's son. It made everything final—his failure complete.

_November 12, 2013_

_John could not think of a time he would consider himself panicked. Even fire fights or the direst CIA missions had hardly rattled his cool exterior. Tonight, however, John Reese was as close to panic as he could get. When he realized Joss had brought the two most powerful crime enterprises in New York down on herself, John was genuinely afraid and he did not have time to be cautious. As much as he admired Joss's stubbornness and her famous moral compass, he was beyond furious at her steadfast insistence that she do this without his help. John scrolled through his phone and stopped at a number he had stored in his phone months prior. He never used the number in the traditional sense, only to keep track of its holder. His screen read "Taylor" as he hit the call button. A hesitant voice answered "Hello?"_

"_Taylor?"_

"_John, is that you?" John had seen Taylor Carter sporadically since the time he had saved the teen from Elias. Mostly he saw Taylor in passing or Taylor answered his mother's phone on occasion. He was not sure how Joss had explained his presence in her life, but he could not put up pretenses at this point. The situation was too dire. _

"_Yes, Taylor it's me. Have you spoken to your mom today?"_

"_No, not today. Why? What's going on? Is she in trouble?"_

"_Taylor, I don't want to scare you, but she may be. I need you to do something for me."_

"_Anything to help my mom. John, she's been acting really strange lately. I've been worried for awhile."_

"_Taylor, I promise I won't let anything happen to your mom. I would die first, but I need you to do something for me." John knew Joss and she was headed straight for the lion's den. She, however, would not set her final plan in motion without talking to the most important person to her in this world, Taylor. "Taylor, your mom is going to call you tonight. There is something very specific I need you to tell her. Are you listening?"_

"_John, what do I need to say?"_

"_Tell her she is not alone. Tell that she has people that care about her and if she needs help, all she needs to do is ask. I want her to know that I'm here to back her up Taylor."_

"_I'll tell her, John. She always said you keep your promises."_

"_And I'll keep this one, Taylor. Just make sure she gets my message." John gulped and disconnected the call. He could only hope Joss recognized his words and called._

December 6, 2013

Taylor arrived at the diner around 7:30 that evening. Its green booths, formica counter and smell of freshly brewed coffee and french fries made him feel as if he were coming home. Taylor struggled, feeling an almost physical pain of emptiness as he stepped through the doors. Even though he knew it was foolish, he almost expected her to rush in apologizing for being late. She would always plop down with a sigh in their usual booth and say "T, how was your day?" Taylor sat in the usual spot, almost taking up vigil as he kept a lookout for John.

The older redheaded waitress in her frilly apron walked up to the table. She pulled the pencil out of her hair, lightly chewing on the end as she held her order pad. Taylor had his head bent down, his voice catching in his throat as she addressed him. "Taylor, it's been forever since you've been in. How are you holdin up, Hun? I was so sorry to hear about your mom. Is there something I can get for ya?"

"Just a Coke, Tina."

"Taylor, you're skin and bones. How about I bring ya that Coke and a piece of apple pie with ice cream? I know it's your favorite."

"Thanks, Tina. On second thought, would you bring a slice of cherry?"

Tina frowned and patted Taylor on the shoulder. "I sure will, Hun." Cherry pie was his mom's favorite.

As Taylor waited for John and Tina's return, he thought about why he was there. It had been an emotionally grueling day. His dad had been working long hours and when he was not at work, he was trying to help Taylor's grandmother manage Joss's affair. They had located a large trust fund for Taylor's education of which no one could determine the origin. Taylor knew that the brownstone he shared with his mom was locked up tight. His grandmother was still so deep in grief she could not step through the threshold. When Taylor had questioned his dad about returning to his home, Paul had responded he felt that he would be intruding. He had only reentered their lives a few months prior and Paul thought that it should be someone closer to Joss who went through her personal effects.

So Taylor had decided that today would be the day he returned home. He owed it to his mom. As he sorted through his mom's desk, he had discovered a closed manila envelope. In his mother's elegant cursive, one word was written, "John." This envelope had prompted Taylor's frigid trek to the diner to meet the mysterious man in his mom's life.

As he double checked that the envelope was safely tucked in his green canvas backpack, he found a piece of plain white card stock. The card had arrived a week after his mother's death. When Taylor found it in the mail, he assumed it was another sympathy card. By that point he thought he would vomit if he had to read another card lamenting about his loss and telling him his mother was an angel looking down on him. This card, however, gave him pause. Instead of the usual "To the Carter Family," the card was addressed to him. He had opened the plain white envelope and found the piece of card stock. Scrawled on the card in black pen was a simple sentence "I'm sorry I didn't keep my promise." Under that sentence was a phone number. At the time, he tossed the card aside, still angered. How could a man with John's skills, skills he had witnessed firsthand, fail to protect her? But when Taylor found the manila envelope, he knew his mom would want him to return it to John. If anyone in the world could understand at least some of Taylor's pain, he had a sense it was John.

Taylor had been so lost in thought that he did not notice Tina leave his pie. The vanilla ice cream had already melted making white rivulets like melting snow in the crevices of the pie crust. As it mixed with the deep cherry pie filling, Taylor felt nauseous. All he could think about was his nightmares of his mother covered in blood. Taylor looked up as he heard the jostling of the bells on the door. In walked John who wordlessly slipped into the booth opposite Taylor. Neither one knew what to say or how to start.

Taylor pulled out the envelope and silently passed it across the table to John. John immediately recognized Joss's handwriting. "I found this in my mom's things. She was clearly saving it for you. Don't know what's in it, but I knew she wanted you to have it." Taylor reached into his pocket and pulled out some crumpled bills, setting them on the table. He stood to leave when John reached out, placing a hand on the teen's arm.

"Taylor, I'm sorry."

Taylor took a deep breath and in a soft whisper turned to leave, saying "She always said you keep your promises. Why didn't you this time?" John watched Taylor walk towards the front door and then he quietly exited the back, tucking the envelope into his jacket pocket. John doubled back, watching as Taylor got into a black sedan. John recognized Paul Carter behind the wheel and breathed a sigh of relief that Taylor was safely on his way home. Suddenly, as Taylor got into the car, John saw a flash of movement under a nearby streetlight. As he turned, he saw a man with a camera pointed at Taylor.

As the figure moved, John caught a glimpse of a face in the flickering street light, Anthony Marconi. Why was Elias's lieutenant taking a picture of Taylor Carter? John immediately sped up his pace, following Scarface. If there was any threat to Taylor, John would put Elias and all of his men in the ground, in graves next to the one he intended for Patrick Simmons. Nothing would happen to the last connection he had to Joss.

* * *

John followed Scarface until dawn. They ended up on a quiet street in Brighton Beach. John watched as Marconi bounded up the stairs of a dilapidated townhouse. John knew the outside was only for show. He suspected the interior was quite lavish, nothing but the best for Elias's hideout. Shivering, John stationed himself in the house across the street, which was conveniently for sale with an easy lock to pick. From the second floor window, he had the perfect view of the comings and goings from the house across the street. As John settled in to wait out Elias and Marconi, he groaned in pain. He reached his hand beneath his black trench coat, touching the cotton of his white dress shirt. As he removed his hand, he saw the blood. "Damn it," John cursed under his breath. He had busted another stitch. That made number five since he had left Finch's safe house.

Suddenly, John heard a rustling from downstairs. It sounded as if someone had entered the house. Slowly John eased his body from his sitting position, his gun securely in his hand. As the door creaked open, he leveled the gun at the intruder. "What the hell is this all about, Wonderboy?" Lionel Fusco called as he entered the room.

"Nice to see you too, Lionel."

"You drag me all the way out to Brighton Beach at the crack of dawn with no explanation. What is going on?"

"Lionel, how about you not alert the entire neighborhood to our presence?"

"Listen, John. I don't know what your plan is here. I'm sure this is about Simmons. You have a one track mind these days, but we are on different missions. You're out to exact your ultimate revenge—killing Simmons. I'm out to honor my partner's legacy and bring her murderer to justice. So unless something has changed, we're no longer on the same team."

John glared at Fusco. Nothing was going to keep him from his revenge on Simmons. This was just a short detour. "Lionel, this is not about Simmons. This is about Taylor Carter."

"What? What's going on? Is Taylor alright?"

"I saw Elias's lieutenant following Taylor, and I'm here to find out why."

"Scarface? That makes no sense. Carter is gone. Why go after her son?"

"I need you to stakeout the house across the street, Lionel, until I get back. I know Elias is holed up in that house, and I don't want to lose sight of them until I find out why he has such an interest in Taylor."

"So where are you going?"

"That's not your concern, Lionel."

"It is if you are going after Simmons."

"I'm not going after Simmons . . . yet. Once I get back, Lionel, you, Lee and Taylor are going to take a little vacation. I know Lee and Taylor have been spending time together. You are going to convince Paul Carter that it would be good for Taylor to get away and spend time with you and Lee. You are then going to take the boys to one of Finch's safe houses until you hear from me. Understood?"

"Do I have a choice?" Lionel turned around when he did not get an answer and realized John was gone. "That's just perfect." As Lionel gritted his teeth and hunkered down for a cold wait, he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. "What the . . .?" Lionel paused, squeezed his eyes shut and looked again. Scarface stood on the stoop of the townhouse with an older man carrying a doctor's bag. Lionel would never forget the face of the doctor that gave them the news the night Carter died. What was he doing coming out of Elias's hideout? Something big was going on but Lionel could not yet figure out how all of the pieces fit together.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Person of Interest or any of its characters.

A/N: Again, thanks to all of my readers, especially those of you who have taken time to review. I'm so glad that you are enjoying the story. I honestly didn't know when I posted if I would have any readers. So here is what you've been waiting on. We finally check back in with Joss.

Chapter 4

December 5, 2013 (two days ago)

Her eyes snapped to the door as a voice said "Nice to see you awake, Detective. While you've been sleeping, the game has gotten very interesting indeed."

"Elias. I should have known this was your style. What the hell are you up to?" Carter rasped.

"Detective, so much hostility towards your savior."

"Where am I, Elias? And why am I here? What happened?"

"There will be plenty of time for a Q&A, Detective but for now, I think it is best that Dr. Sabatini take a look at you. You've had us all quite worried. Three weeks is a long time to be in a coma, Detective."

"What? I've been here three weeks. Where is my son?" The heart monitor began beeping loudly as her heart rate and blood pressure spiked.

"I assure you. Young Mr. Carter is alive and well. As you know, I have a soft spot for young people who lose mothers at a tender age. My men have been checking up on him regularly, and he is in perfect physical health."

Carter didn't know whether to be relieved or even more alarmed that Elias was keeping watch over her son. Why would Elias need to check in on Taylor? Where were John and Finch? She vaguely remembered getting shot but couldn't put all of the pieces together. Was John shot too? Yes, he was shot first. It was Simmons. Was John dead?

"I see that look in your eyes, Detective. You are wondering about our dear friend, John. I haven't had any communication from him or Harold. It seems they have both disappeared." Elias gave a dramatic sigh and lamented, "I do so miss my chess matches with such a worthy opponent."

"So what is your angle, Elias? Am I your prisoner?"

"That is such an ugly word. Of course you are not my prisoner. You are my honored guest. You are free to leave, Detective, however, I would not recommend it. You see, Patrick Simmons and a few of his allies are still at bay. It is safest for you and those you love that Jocelyn Carter is dead. Dr. Sabatini should be here any moment to examine you. He, of course, does not know who you are. To him, you are my seriously injured house guest, Jo Taylor."

"Cute, Elias." She grimaced as she thought about being at the mercy of the man that had tried to kill her twice and kidnapped her son.

"I thought it was a clever alias. As you know, I like my plans to have a sense of panache. I always have had a flair for the dramatic." Just as Carter was going to make a sarcastic remark, the blond woman and an older man dressed in a gray trench coat entered the room. The man wore old fashioned spectacles and his hair was salt and pepper. He was a slight man with a hunched back, clearly suffering from osteoporosis in his older age. "Dr. Sabatini, as you can see, Sleeping Beauty has awakened. I'll leave you." Carter went to protest. She wanted answers and she wanted them now, but she could feel her eyes drooping. The short conversation had exhausted her, so she turned her attention to the doctor. The sooner she got a clean bill of health, the sooner she would be out of Elias's control, and she could find out exactly what had been happening.

* * *

Patrick Simmons was out of options and out of places to hide. Most of his network of allies were in FBI custody. The few that had escaped were idiots, the low level lackeys that they never trusted with anything important. He had attempted to reach out to the Russians but as you might imagine, there were some hard feelings. The only option left was to flee New York, however, Patrick Simmons had unfinished business. He was not leaving the Big Apple until the Man in the Suit lay dead at his feet. Simmons had managed to keep one informant in Elias's organization after ties were severed which led him to a quiet street in Brighton Beach. This reconnaissance mission was twofold. Simmons was considering reaching out to Elias, which he knew was a desperate move but at this time, he was a desperate man. Simmons had been camped out watching the house for two days. The elderly man carrying the old fashioned medical bag had not gone unnoticed. He had come and gone from the house four times in the last forty-eight hours.

The man was Dr. Robert Sabatini, a well respected doctor with a private practice and privileges at St. Agnes Hospital. In the past, he had been tied to the organized crime families of New York, their personal physician, but it appeared he had left the life some ten years ago. So what would bring him back and why did Elias need a physician? His source in Elias's organization confirmed that his boss was alive and well. Simmons knew that Elias's lieutenant, Marconi had healed from the attempt on his life months ago. Who was Elias hiding? All of a sudden it hit Simmons. They had always suspected the Man in the Suit worked for Elias. Could Elias be playing nursemaid to the man himself? When he considered it, it all made sense. The Man in the Suit had to have orchestrated Elias's escape from execution.

Simmons refocused his attention to the door as the doctor and Marconi exited. The doctor placed his bag in the front passenger seat of his blue sedan and walked around the front of the car to get into the driver's side. Suddenly, a young blond headed woman came out of the door, summoning them both back into the house. Simmons decided that now was the time to get some answers. Conveniently, the doctor, in his haste to return to the house, had left the car door unlocked. Simmons looked up and down the street as he approached the vehicle and then opened the door. He began rifling through the black alligator skin medical bag and pulled out a paper prescription pad. This doctor really was from the old school of doing things. Simmons flipped through the carbon copies and paused. Dated today were two prescriptions, one for a strong painkiller and another for what Simmons suspected was some kind of antibiotic made out to "Jo Taylor." Was that the alias his nemesis was using? Simmons decided that it was time to get some answers. He placed the pad back into the bag and pulled out the doctor's phone. He then took note of the phone number. Dr. Sabatini would be receiving a call tonight that he could not ignore.

* * *

Simmons arrived fifteen minutes early to the small bar in Queens. He stationed himself at a back table, the perfect spot to see but not be seen. The doctor walked in promptly at the arranged meeting time, warily looking around, clearly unsure of who he was meeting. Simmons stood and motioned for Sabatini to proceed to the back of the bar. He silently directed Sabatini to sit in the chair faced away from the door, as Simmons took the seat across from him. Simmons took another slow sip of his scotch before he spoke. The doctor's eyes darted around the room and his hand slightly trembled as he reached for a glass of water on the table.

Simmons started "I'm so glad we could have this little chat, Doctor."

Sabatini coughed nervously "You didn't give me much of a choice. Who are you and what do you want?"

"No reason to get defensive. All I want is a little information."

"No reason to get defensive?" Sabatini said incredulously. "You threaten my twelve year old granddaughter and you say there is no reason for me to get defensive?" Sabatini was a widower. His wife had died ten years ago, at about the same time he had severed ties with New York's organized crime families. The only family he had was a daughter, a son-in-law and a twelve year old granddaughter, Isabella who was named after her grandmother. It hadn't been difficult for Simmons to find Isabella, who attended a well-known prep school on the Upper East Side. A few pictures of her outside of her school and a phone call had been all the persuasion needed to arrange this meeting.

"Why have you been spending so much time in Brighton Beach, Doctor?" Sabatini remained silent and Simmons continued "I don't really enjoy hurting kids, but I will. You wouldn't want anything to happen to Isabella to protect Elias would you?"

Sabatini took a deep breath. "I've been seeing a patient. What do you want to know?"

"What are you treating Jo Taylor for?"

"Gunshot wounds." A sense of giddiness overtook Simmons as he thought "Gotcha."

"Describe the patient."

"African American woman about five-five. She appears to be late thirties, early forties. Slim build, long dark hair." Simmons froze and thought to himself "What the hell? It can't be." He pulled out his phone and scrolled through old surveillance photos, stopping on one in particular. He shoved the phone in front of the doctor's face.

Fiercely Simmons growled "Is this her?" Sabatini shook his head in confirmation. Joss Carter was alive and Elias was protecting her. Simmons gulped the last of his scotch and got up without saying a word. If Carter was alive then the Man in the Suit wouldn't be far away. As he stalked out of the bar barely able to contain his fury, he muttered under his breath "Wherefore art thou Romeo, bitch?"


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Person of Interest or any of its characters.

A/N: Thanks again for everyone who is reading and reviewing. It means a lot. Just a quick note on the time line. Chapter 1 takes place on December 5 and Chapter 2 takes place on December 6. All of the later chapters now have dates so be aware that there are flashbacks. In response to one reader who asked why Fusco didn't see Simmons, Simmons was outside on December 5. John arrived the night of the 6th and Fusco on the morning of the 7th. Hope that clears up any confusion. Chapters probably will not be as quick going forward. I don't have as much time during the week. I'll see if I can get Chapter 6 out by midweek.

Chapter 5

December 7, 2013

After Dr. Sabatini completed his exam, Joss fell into a restless sleep. Images whirred through her head—images of Simmons holding the gun, John falling and bloody and Taylor disappearing before her eyes. When she awoke, she was shocked to find sunlight filtering through the curtains and Marconi perched in a chair eying her questioningly. "We were starting to wonder if Sabatini had given you an overdose on the sedative."

Joss responded indignantly, "What do you mean? He sedated me?"

"Doc thought it was best you not get too agitated in your condition, but he knocked you out for over twenty-four hours."

"An entire day has passed since I talked to Elias?"

"Yup." Marconi responded nonchalantly. He placed a cup of coffee on her bedside table. "This isn't part of the Doc's approved diet plan, but I thought you could use a cup. All cops like coffee, right?"

Joss snorted, partly annoyed and partly amused, "Yeah, all cops like coffee. Thanks." Joss gently picked up the blue ceramic mug. She had to hold it with both hands because she was still weak from inactivity. She carefully maneuvered her good arm to grasp the cup and rested the bottom against her arm in the sling for balance. Joss cautiously took a sip, finding comfort in the familiar bitterness of a hot cup of black coffee. She turned to Marconi and arched an eyebrow "Was there something you wanted, Scar-Marconi?"

Marconi laughed "It's ok, Detective. I'm well aware of what you cops call me, but I think after all we've been through together, you should call me Tony"

"All we've been through? What are you talking about?" Joss questioned.

"Who do you think put the plan to save you into motion, Detective? You don't think the Boss did the heavy lifting?"

"So enlighten me, Tony. How did I get here?"

_November 13, 2013_

_Elias stood in the study of his Brighton Beach safe house, sipping a brandy as he listened to the caller. He hung up the phone and placed it on the walnut desk. His brow crinkled and Marconi looked at his boss with curiosity. Elias took another sip of brandy before speaking. "It seems that Officer Simmons has gunned down Detective Carter."_

_Marconi asked with genuine concern "Is she dead?"_

"_According to my sources, she made it to the hospital but is now in surgery. It does not look promising for her survival. Get over to St. Agnes and monitor the situation. Report to me with any news."_

* * *

_Anthony Marconi arrived at the St. Agnes ER forty-five minutes later, wearing a black baseball cap low over his face and an NYC EMT jacket. As he walked through the waiting room, he noticed Detective Carter's partner seated with his arm around Carter's son. Another man stood pacing near the two and an elderly woman sat quietly sobbing._

_Marconi stood in the hallway, casually leaned against the wall, listening for any news on the detective. He overheard a young nurse update the family that the detective was a fighter and holding her own. She would be in surgery for at least another couple of hours because the gunshot wounds had caused significant internal bleeding, but luckily missed her heart. Marconi went deeper into the hospital corridor, lurking in the shadows. He then noticed that he wasn't the only person to show interest in the detective's condition. He immediately recognized two low level HR goons. Two gunshot wounds to the chest, one to the shoulder and three cardiac arrests did not sound promising for Detective Carter's survival. _

_A short time later, Marconi perked up when he heard a doctor and a nurse conversing in hushed tones. "It's a miracle she made it out of surgery. She has a good chance, but they'll have to keep her in a medically induced coma for at least a couple of weeks."_

_Marconi pulled out his phone and quickly placed a call to his boss. "Boss, she's out of surgery. They are optimistic she's going to make it, but she's in a medically induced coma."_

"_Very well, Tony. I'm sure John is not far away and can oversee the detective's protection."_

"_That's just it, Boss. There's been no sign of suit boy, and there are two HR henchmen skulking in the lobby near the family. My guess is they are under orders from Simmons to finish the job."_

"_This puts us in a very interesting predicament, Tony. Stay close to Detective Carter. I'll call you shortly with further instructions."_

* * *

_Carl Elias lived by a code—admittedly a twisted code that did not forbid deception, stealing or even murder. This code, however, was founded on loyalty. He believed in a careful balance—all debts must be repaid. After Detective Carter's unexpected intervention in HR's plan for him, Elias had grown rather fond of her. She was certainly talented and as he had told John two years earlier, he hated to see good talent go to waste. Furthermore, he hadn't forgotten the debt he owed to John. After all, he would have died at the hands of the Russians on Brighton Beach if not for John interceding on behalf of Charlie Burton. So Carl Elias was presented with a unique opportunity. If he stepped in and protected Detective Carter, then his debt to her would be repaid as well as his debt to John. Although he was certain neither Detective Carter nor John had admitted it, he could see the depth of feeling between the two. If he saved Carter, he essentially saved John, leaving no outstanding balance due. As an added bonus, it was always fun to screw over HR._

_Elias punched in a number on his old office land-line. He waited as the phone rang. A voice on the other end answered "Dr. Sabatini."_

"_Doctor, it has been too long."_

_Sabatini paused "Who is this?"_

"_Don't play games, Doc. You know who this is. I told you I would be calling in a favor. Today is the day. How are Allison and Isabella? Is Isabella still playing soccer?"_

"_What do you want Elias?"_

"_How do you feel about working the night shift at St. Agnes tonight?"_

"_I'm on my way in now. Shift starts in ten minutes. Why?"_

"_Well, that is incredibly convenient. Listen carefully, Doctor, to exactly what I need you to do."_

* * *

_Dr. Sabatini took a deep breath as he signed in for the night shift at St. Agnes. He was unnerved by the task ahead of him. While he had left his less than honorable career with the Five Families nearly ten years ago, once Elias appeared, he had been drawn back into that life. Elias knew every dirty secret of his past and had threatened to reveal them to his daughter Allison and granddaughter Isabella, who only knew him as their honorable doctor father and grandfather. They had no suspicion of his sordid past. So he and Elias had an agreement—Sabatini would patch up his men in exchange for a small amount of compensation to keep Isabella in her prestigious private school and for Elias's silence. Sabatini knew that his daughter might forgive his transgressions if they came to light but her family would be ruined. Allison's husband and Isabella's father was an assistant district attorney. If it came down to protecting her father or her husband and daughter, Sabatini knew who his daughter would choose. She wouldn't let a scandal destroy her family and clearly her husband could not be connected with an old doctor with ties to mobsters. For this reason, when Elias called, he knew he couldn't refuse._

_Sabatini located Marconi standing in the hallway outside of the surgical recovery room. Elias had not told him the true identity of the patient, only that his lieutenant would be waiting to direct him. Clearly the patient had gone through a serious surgery and had not yet been assigned a room in the ICU. This would be their only chance to act, between shift changes. Sabatini nodded to Marconi as they went into the quiet recovery room. Sabatini picked up the patient's chart adding a time of death and notes to indicate a cardiac arrest. Without looking at the patient's name, Sabatini set the now altered chart on a nearby table and placed the new chart for "Jo Taylor" on the patient's bed. He then handed "Jo Taylor's" transfer papers to Marconi. From what Sabatini had been told, another hospital employee on Elias's payroll had entered the dummy information for "Jo Taylor" into the system prior to Sabatini's arrival. Sabatini unhooked the monitors and reattached the portable monitors quickly. Marconi then silently pushed the bed through the swinging doors of the recovery room. _

_A young male orderly stopped Marconi. "Need some help?"_

"_Sure could use some. My partner is waiting at the ambulance bay. Patient's being transferred to Met Gen."_

_The chipper orderly responded "Sure thing. I'll get the door and help you get her into the elevator."_

"_I appreciate it."As the orderly preceded him, Marconi pulled up the blanket on Carter's bed to obscure her face as they passed through the hallway. He had last seen HR's men in the lobby area of the ER. Luckily patient transfers went out the back of the ER into the ambulance bay on the far side of the hospital._

_Sabatini could hear the exchange between Marconi and the orderly from the empty recovery room. He took two deep breaths trying to calm his hammering heart. Elias's patient was on her way. Now came the worst part of this plan—informing the family of the patient's "death." Sabatini was lost in thought and didn't hear the nurse enter the room. _

* * *

_Sarah Brooks was coming off of a 24 hour shift, but she wanted to stop and check in on Detective Carter before she left the hospital. Some cases got to you more than others and this was one of them. Rumor had it that the detective had been gunned down by a corrupt cop. Sarah had updated the family several times throughout the surgery and now felt attached. The detective was a fighter and had somehow survived. Sarah felt like she had to check in one last time. As she entered the recovery room, Sarah was stunned when she saw only Dr. Sabatini. Sarah had only been gone an hour. Had they already moved the detective to another floor? "Dr. Sabatini, where is the patient that was in this room?"_

"_I'm sorry, Sarah. She coded. Died about half an hour ago."_

_Sarah was stunned. She had come to expect these sudden turns in her line of work, but she had been certain Detective Carter had come through the worst. She had made it to the hospital and through surgery, only to code in the recovery room. Sadly Sarah asked "Has the family been informed?"_

"_I was just about to go tell them," Sabatini responded gravely, removing his glasses briefly to rub his eyes._

"_Do you mind if Dr. Morris and I tell them? We both got pretty attached on this case and have been updating the family for the last several hours. It might help if familiar faces break the news."_

"_Of course."Sabatini was more than happy to let the young nurse and attending physician tell the family. The less he knew the better, which was why he never read the patient's real name on her chart._

December 7, 2013

Joss Carter sat stunned as she listened to Marconi's account of how she had been secreted from St. Agnes to Brighton Beach. Always the detective, she saw one huge flaw in Marconi's story. "But how did you convince my family and my partner I was dead if they never saw my body?"

Marconi chuckled "Pure dumb luck. Your partner convinced your kid and your mom that they needed to remember you the way you were, not with a bunch of tubes and surgical scars in a hospital bed."

"Who's buried in my coffin, Tony?"

"No need to worry, Detective. Unidentified Jane Doe from the city morgue. Died of exposure, nothing nefarious and certainly nothing at our hands." Marconi stood from his chair stretching and looked at Carter. "Well, as much as I've enjoyed our little chat, Detective, I've got somewhere to be. Gotta go pick up your meds the Doc called in for you. He's got you on some pretty serious stuff to ward off infection and for pain." Marconi waived the paper prescription copies at Carter as he spoke.

"You didn't strike me as an errand boy, Tony."

"Ha ha. I may have some other business to attend to on the way." He turned to leave the room and stopped. He picked up a camera sitting on the floor next to the chair he had vacated. He set the camera in Carter's lap. "You may want to take a look at the pictures on that. Took 'em last night while you were getting your beauty rest. Try to relax, Detective. If we wanted you dead, we wouldn't have gone to all of this trouble to keep you alive." With that remark, Marconi left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Joss powered up the camera and began hitting the scroll button. She gasped when she recognized the outside of her usual neighborhood diner. The next picture showed Taylor sitting in their favorite booth. She sighed with relief, knowing that Taylor was alive and well. She lovingly touched the screen of the camera, smiling for the first time since she had awakened into this chaos. Marconi had taken several shots of Taylor who appeared to be waiting for someone. Carter thought to herself "Paul?" That thought died when she saw the next picture. John was seated across from Taylor. Thank God John was alive and he was clearly keeping an eye on Taylor. A sudden sense of relief enveloped her, but as she continued to scroll, she paused at the expressions on their faces. Taylor looked angry and John looked lost. The next image showed Taylor handing John an envelope. What was that? Joss did a double take and her breath caught. She knew exactly what Taylor was giving John.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Person of Interest or any of its characters.

A/N: Thanks again for the overwhelming support. Sorry this is a day late and a little short. I'm hoping to have a big chapter sometime this weekend.

Chapter 6

December 7, 2013

John's relentless pursuit of Simmons was catching up with him. He felt exceedingly weary as he left Megan Tillman's apartment. This was the third time he had visited the good doctor in the last two weeks. Twice he had showed up at her hospital, disguising himself in scrubs, but this time he found himself at her apartment, knowing Megan had just left her overnight shift. She wasn't surprised to see him and continued to chastise him for not taking care of himself. Once again, she stitched him up and sent him on his way, but not before begging him to go to the hospital. He knew she was right when she warned that it wasn't a question of if he would get an infection but when.

As he pushed open the brass door leading out of Dr. Tillman's lobby, a cold blast of air greeted him. He hunched his shoulders against the wind, burying his hands in his pockets. As he moved, he heard paper crinkling. He reached into the inside pocket of his black overcoat and pulled out Joss's envelope. How could he have forgotten he was carrying this around? He had been so preoccupied with his concern for Taylor's safety, tracking Marconi and then the necessity of his visit to Megan. His meeting with Taylor felt like weeks ago.

John made his way through the bustling New York streets to the park where he had often met Carter. It was only two blocks from the eighth precinct and had provided a perfect spot for trading information. Not surprisingly, today, the park was empty except for the occasional diehard jogger. John brushed the snow from a bench and sat down, feeling the exhaustion of the last three weeks without Carter. He felt a slight trimmer in his hand as he opened the envelope. When he pulled out the contents, he froze. Staring back at him was a picture of a smiling Jessica. Seated next to Jessica was a man who died long ago, the man he was before John Reese ever existed.

John hadn't seen this picture since the day it was taken. Jessica had kept the only copy in a frame in her apartment. He had assumed the photo had been thrown away or lost after he broke her heart. Where had Carter found it? And if she had seen this picture, knowing her abilities as a detective, John was certain she would have easily discovered his true identity. She had never said a word. John began to slide the photo back into the envelope pondering what other mysteries Carter had left behind when he paused. There was writing on the back and it wasn't his or Jessica's. It was Joss Carter's.

In her elegant hand, Joss had written:

_John, _

_Your secret is safe with me. Don't let go of the good things from your past. They make you the man you are today. And stop punishing yourself for things that are not your fault. You can't stop every bad thing from happening no matter how hard you try. _

_Joss_

John wiped the tears from his eyes and cleared his throat. He pulled out his burner phone and dialed Fusco's familiar number. There would be a time for mourning, but not now. He had to ensure that Taylor Carter was safe and Patrick Simmons was no longer a threat to anyone.

* * *

Finch finally had a name to match the prescription number The Machine had provided hours earlier. After scouring the number pattern, Finch traced the prescription to Lou's Pharmacy in Brighton Beach. The prescription number belonged to Jo Taylor. Finch determined that Jo Taylor had two prescriptions waiting at Lou's, one for a strong painkiller and the other for an antibiotic. Finch, however, was unable to discover any other information about Jo Taylor—no birth date, no address, and no social security number for the mysterious patient. After coming up empty in his search for Jo Taylor, Finch turned his focus to the prescription writer-Dr. Robert Sabatini. Finch hacked Sabatini's office records and once again, nothing. He was about to give up when he tried one more place—St. Agnes Hospital. Sabatini was an attending physician at the hospital. Perhaps Jo Taylor was one of Sabatini's hospital patients.

Finch typed furiously, scanning documents from the hospital. There seemed to be no record of Jo Taylor at St. Agnes. Suddenly one document popped up—a transfer order for patient Jo Taylor to Metropolitan General. Strangely, the records made no other mention of Jo Taylor at St. Agnes. Finch then turned his focus to Met Gen. The receiving hospital had no record of Jo Taylor's arrival on November 13 or any other day for that matter. Something bothered Harold and he could not put his finger on it. He knew there was something he was missing and he knew the pieces were all there.

His phone beeped, breaking his train of thought. "Yes, Ms. Shaw."

"Finch, I'm stationed outside of Lou's. Haven't spotted anyone that might be our number yet. Interesting side note, it looks like Lou's doing more than selling prescriptions."

"What do you mean Ms. Shaw?"

"I'm pretty sure Lou is running guns out of the back. I have to respect that—it would be so cliché to be running illegal drugs out of a pharmacy. Guns show some creativity."

"I'm so glad you can appreciate this particular criminal enterprise, Ms. Shaw," Finch said dryly. "But what makes you so certain?"

"I spotted some of Elias's thugs coming and going with some impressive armaments. Finch, I could use some new hardware." Shaw paused "Well, well, well. If it isn't Elias's second in command. Haven't seen much of Scarface since HR tried to take him out. What is he up to?"

Finch waited for Shaw to continue but the line was silent. "Ms. Shaw, are you there?"

"I'm still here Finch. But that's odd. Scarface went in the front and just came out with a paper sack, much too small to be any of the guns. Maybe I need to go do some quick shopping at Lou's and then stick with Scarface."

Harold was about to urge Shaw not do anything unwise but stopped. Was the number connected to Elias? His phone beeped again, showing another incoming call. "Ms. Shaw, keep up your surveillance of Lou's and don't do anything drastic. Keep in mind the number is the priority. I'll have to get back to you."

Harold switched lines "Yes, Detective Fusco. What can I do for you?"

"Listen, Glasses. The bane of my existence stuck me out in Brighton Beach to stakeout Elias. He's convinced Elias is gunning for Taylor Carter."

"What? John thinks Taylor is in danger?" Finch furiously typed on his computer and breathed a sigh of relief. Taylor was safely at Marbury High School. He must be at basketball practice.

"Finch, you still there?"

"Yes, Detective."

"Here's where things get weird. After Wonderboy left, Scarface came out of the house with an elderly man. I thought he looked familiar but I couldn't place him. Then it hit me. It was the doctor from St. Agnes that gave us the news of Carter's death." Harold could hear Fusco's voice break slightly as he pressed on. "I saw Carter's nurse, real nice young woman named Sarah whispering with this doctor. She looked up and saw me. With the expression on her face, I knew."

_November 13, 2013_

_Fusco approached Nurse Sarah Brooks and the doctor who stood outside Carter's recovery room. He had decided to wander the hallways, not able to stay still as he, Taylor, Paul Carter and Carter's mother waited for news. He spotted Sarah talking quietly to another doctor. He heard her ask "Do you mind if Dr. Morris and I tell them? We both got pretty attached on this case and have been updating the family for the last several hours. It might help if familiar faces break the news."_

"_Of course." The doctor responded._

_The sadness is Sarah's voice spurred Fusco to action. He spoke up disturbing the doctor and nurse who were deep in conversation. "What's going on, Sarah? Who's this?"_

_Sarah responded softly, "This is Dr. Sabatini. I'm afraid we have some bad news."_

_Lionel didn't want to hear what Sarah had to say. He felt anger bubbling up inside. How was this fair? Carter did everything right. She was the best of them all and she dies like this. Lionel turned on the elderly doctor "How could this happen? She made it through the worst. She got to the hospital and made it into surgery." Lionel turned to Sarah "You said they were finishing up and things looked good. She would be going into recovery."_

_Sabatini tried to school his voice into a calming cadence "I am sorry for your loss. Unfortunately with these types of injuries, a patient's status can change quickly. She went into cardiac arrest and we were unable to revive her. Her body had suffered too much trauma."_

_Fusco was about to continue directing his anger at the doctor when he heard a sob "Noo! She can't be dead." Fusco whirled around to catch Taylor Carter before he collapsed in the hospital hallway. They both sat huddled on the floor, sobbing._

Finch's voice on the phone brought Fusco back to the present. "Back up, Detective Fusco. Detective Carter made it to the hospital alive?"

Fusco realized his mistake too late. He had never told John or Harold that Carter was alive when she was transported to the hospital. He figured it would only cause more pain, especially for John. Fusco had to admit, he did partly blame John for not protecting Carter, but he knew that John's guilt and self loathing were punishment enough. "I didn't think it would help anyone if I told you two."

"Detective, do you remember this doctor's name?"

"Something that sounded Italian. Bellini, Mussolini. . . ?"

"Sabatini?"

"That's it! How did you know?"

"I have to go, Detective. I'll be in touch and please do not share this with John if he contacts you. I think it best I gather more information. As you know, John is particularly sensitive to anything regarding Detective Carter."

"Finch, do you think Elias had the doc finish Carter off?"

"Detective, I'll be in touch." Finch immediately disconnected the call. Was it possible? Could Jo Taylor be . . .? Finch couldn't finish the thought. If he was right, how had this happened? If he was wrong, it would be like losing her all over again.

Frantically, Finch pushed aside papers, books, and various other items on his desk. Finally, buried under a first edition Hemingway, Finch spotted it. He latched on to the burner phone like it was a life line. Finch pushed redial. He could hear the phone connect but no voice answered.

Finch said gravely "I know you're there."

In a chipper voice Elias responded "Harold, I've been expecting your call."

Harold sternly replied, "We need to talk about Jo Taylor."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Person of Interest or its characters. If I did, this story would be completely unnecessary.

A/N: Another big thank you to my amazing reviewers. You inspire me to keep writing this story. This turned out a little shorter than I had planned but it was a good stopping point. I'm not sure when I'll get the next chapter up. Maybe by midweek. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 7

December 8, 2013

Joss cautiously climbed out of bed for the first time since being under Elias's care. Her muscles screamed in protest as she stood and slowly crept across the room. She went to the closet and was surprised to find some of her own clothing. Knowing Elias had someone break into her home only made her angrier at the situation. For now, she was at Elias's mercy.

Carefully, she thumbed through blazers, pants, and sweaters. She selected a navy cable knit sweater and jeans. Unfortunately, she underestimated the difficulty of changing clothes with her arm in a sling. One arm was out of the sleeve of her tee-shirt before she realized this was not a one person job. Snorting in frustration, she almost didn't hear the door open.

"Whoa, Detective. I didn't expect to see you out of bed." Joss whirled around and scowled at Marconi as he made a show of covering his eyes. "Just came to give you your prescriptions I picked up yesterday, but it looks like you are kind of hung up there. I'd be happy to give you a hand getting out of that shirt, Detective" Marconi said cheekily.

"Out, right now!"

"As you wish." Marconi made an exaggerated bow and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Joss flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Thankfully, a few minutes later, the blond nurse arrived, helping Carter untangle herself and re-dress. Carter then settled in the chair next to the bed, pulling a patchwork quilt tightly around her to ward off the cold. She reached for the two day old paper on the nightstand and distractedly paged through it. The headline read: _Still No leads on HR's Number Two, Patrick Simmons. _ Placing the paper down in frustration, Carter stared out the window. The sky was overcast, tinging the outside world with gray. Pondering her next move, Carter didn't realize how long she had been in the same position until the door opened for the third time today. The room had grown dim and she squinted as her visitor turned on a lamp.

Elias stalked into the room and seated himself in a desk chair facing Carter. "I'm glad to see you up and about, Detective. Things are developing quickly. We need to have a chat but are somewhat pressed for time. I suggest you grab a coat. We are going for a little ride and there is quite a chill in the air this evening."

* * *

John had been at his post across from Elias's safe house in Brighton Beach for almost 36 hours with no movement. When he returned after seeing Dr. Tillman, John noted that Fusco was acting stranger than usual. The Man in the Suit, however, had more pressing matters than the homicide detective's odd behavior. He sent Lionel to pick up Taylor and Lee for an extended weekend out of town. Lionel called to confirm that Paul Carter agreed to let Taylor go. He thought it would be good for his son to get out of the city, especially after he discovered Taylor had gone home alone to sort through his mother's things.

Refocusing his infrared binoculars, John detected movement in the side alley next to the townhouse. Headlights flashed, spotlighting large, fluffy snowflakes. A black SUV pulled onto the street and John caught a glimpse of the front seat passenger, Elias. Immediately, John raced from his perch in the second story of the abandoned house to his waiting Ducati. Being careful to maintain a safe distance, John followed the SUV as it made its way back to the city. As they traveled the city streets, John recognized Elias's destination. One of his favorite meeting spots—the same deserted locale where John asked for Elias's help with Leila a lifetime ago. John ditched his Ducati and continued on foot. He couldn't risk being heard as he approached.

* * *

As the SUV slowed, Joss noticed a black sedan parked across the lot. Its lights flickered in greeting. Elias twisted in his seat to look at Joss. "Well, Detective, I would say this repays all debts and leaves no ties between us. With HR and the Russians neutralized, I can put my plans for this city back into action. I won't let anyone stand in my way, not even you or John."

"I'm glad we're clear because I will be trying to stop you at every turn."

Elias paused and smiled, "Before we part ways, Detective, I must ask if you would like to make our alliance a more permanent arrangement. I could use someone with your talent in my organization."

"Do I need to dignify that with an answer?" Joss retorted.

"I guess not. I made John the same offer before my unfortunate time in Rikers with much the same reply. Now I must ask, Detective, that you remain in the car, while Tony and I make the initial contact with our friends. I wouldn't want any unexpected visitors to put you at risk after I went to all of this trouble to keep you alive." Elias sighed and said just loud enough for Joss to hear "If only you had let me eliminate Patrick Simmons, all of this unpleasantness could have been avoided." With his last remark, Elias exited the front passenger seat while Marconi opened the driver's side door. Joss leaned between the front two seats to watch the other car. Elias had been mysterious about who was coming. Joss suspected it might be Fusco, but she had to admit that deep down she hoped to see another person exit the town car.

Finch and Shaw exited the sedan and stood facing Elias and Marconi. Shaw's hand rested securely on her gun. Elias stepped forward, arms outstretched "Harold, it has been much too long. How are you my friend?"

Harold stepped slightly towards Elias. "You said you have information for me about Jo Taylor. I agreed to your meeting terms so what do you know?"

"So no catching up, Harold? Straight to business then. Tony, if you will?" Elias gestured to the car and Marconi went to the backseat passenger door. Shaw drew her gun, not trusting Marconi, especially with Finch so exposed.

Marconi opened the door and Joss Carter gingerly exited the vehicle, stepping into view. Harold sharply breathed in and heard Shaw's shocked "What the hell?" Joss began to walk forward when Marconi grabbed her arm. Shaw raised her gun poised to shoot him.

Joss turned to face Marconi. "You know, Detective, we can protect you until Simmons is caught. You don't have to trust your safety to them." Marconi inclined his head towards Harold and Shaw. Joss stared at him incredulously and was stunned at what she saw. Marconi's eyes showed genuine concern. Before Joss could respond, she heard the crunching of gravel, signaling the approach of an uninvited guest.

"Get your hands off of her, Scarface. If you touch her again, I'll put a bullet in your head." Joss turned to see John walking towards them, his gun pointed at Marconi.

"John," Joss called, trying to diffuse the situation. John didn't take his eyes off of Marconi. Looking at John, Joss was stunned at his appearance. To the untrained eye, he looked like the professional killer he had once been, however, Joss Carter knew this man. She could see the emotional turmoil in his eyes and the physical toll his injuries had taken. His pace was slightly slower than usual and she could detect he was favoring his right side.

Without breaking his stare with Marconi, John said "Joss, please just get in the car." Joss started to protest, but he suddenly turned his ice blue gaze on her. The words died on her lips and she slowly made her way to the town car. As she passed Finch, she placed her hand on his arm, squeezing reassuringly. She slipped her hand into his camel hair overcoat, quietly taking his phone. Shaw raised an eyebrow at Carter in an unspoken question: _Do you want me to intervene with Reese?_ Carter slightly shook her head "No" and got into the passenger side of the sedan. John slowly backed up, gun still trained on Marconi and Elias. Without saying a word, he slipped into the driver's seat, put the car in reverse and pulled away.

Elias broke the stunned silence. "Well, it's been fun. Harold you know how to reach me if you want to reconvene our chess game." Marconi and Elias got into the SUV and pulled away, leaving Finch and Shaw in the dark as snowflakes fell steadily from the sky.

"Ms. Shaw, do you have your phone?"

"Yeah, Finch. Why?"

"Unless, you want to walk back, I suggest we call for a cab."


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Person of Interest or any of its characters.

A/N: Hi everyone. Surprise! Early update. You can thank my terrible Monday for inspiring me to go ahead and get this finished so it could be posted. Thanks again to all of my amazing reviewers, especially those who have taken the time to review each and every chapter. You are awesome! I can't tell you how much I appreciate your reviews.

Chapter 8

December 8, 2013

John and Joss sat silently as John expertly maneuvered the sedan through the silent city streets onto the open highway. The snow was falling harder, harkening the impending blizzard. John glanced at Joss out of the corner of his eye. His emotions were warring within him. How could she be alive? She had died in his arms. If she had been alive, he never would have left her. Why was she so chummy with Elias and Scarface? It didn't make sense. Where had she been these last weeks? He couldn't bring himself to break the silence. He was afraid that if he said anything, the fragile hold he had on his emotions would fall apart.

Joss remained silent as well. She couldn't read what was going through John's mind. She started to reach out and touch his arm, but stopped herself. Was he angry? She noticed the stern set of his jaw as he looked straight ahead. Joss began shaking; her thin coat wasn't enough to keep her warm, especially since she was still recovering. John noticed and maneuvered the car to the side of the road. Joss grew concerned when they stopped and John exited the car. She watched as snowflakes landed in his hair when he came into view in the car's headlights. He walked to her door and opened it without a word. He took off his black overcoat, draping it over her, and readjusted the vent so that the heat was directed on her. Wordlessly, he got back into the car and they pulled out onto the deserted highway.

After they had been on the road for about an hour, Joss recognized a landmark, the Owen Island Bridge. As John navigated the icy bridge, Joss looked out on the still, dark water. She wondered what John could be thinking. Was this the John Reese who had punished Peter Arndt for Jessica's death? Joss pushed that thought from her head. She had no reason to compare her "death" to John's loss of Jessica. They were friends—whatever he felt for her was nothing compared to his love for Jessica.

Lost in thought, Joss snapped back to reality as John turned onto a quiet neighborhood street and into the driveway of a white Cape Cod style house. After John pulled the car to the back of the house, he put it in park. Finally breaking the silence, he said "Stay here while I go disarm the alarm and open the garage." Joss watched as John disappeared into the house and the outside lights came on. A few seconds later, the garage door opened. John jogged to the car, slipped into the driver's seat and pulled the car inside. He turned off the car and didn't move until the garage door was securely down.

Joss carefully got out of the car and followed John to the door. He went in first, turning on lights and removing tarps from the furniture. John gestured for Joss to have a seat in the den. She didn't argue, feeling the exhaustion of the day catching up to her. John turned to her "Never got the chance to give this to you. It's light enough to shoot one handed." He gently placed a Nano just like Shaw's on the end table next to where Joss was seated. "Stay here while I make sure the house is secure."

Gently, Joss picked up the gun and held it in her hand. She felt comforted by the familiar weight of steel. A few minutes later, John reappeared. Joss stood as he reentered the room "So why don't we skip the silent treatment and you just go ahead and tell me why you are so pissed at me?"

John ignored the question. "I need to check the back patio doors." John went to walk past Carter but she stepped in front of him, blocking his path. He then tried to sidestep her and she moved to block him again. Sternly John said "I'm not in the mood for games, Carter."

"Good because neither am I." Joss said staring at him defiantly. "So if you're not going to talk, I will. What do you think has been going on here, John? Do you think I've been hiding out having a grand time with Elias while everyone I love thought I was dead?"

John looked away from her gaze. That thought had crossed his mind, even though he knew it was irrational. It was easier to be angry with her than allow himself to acknowledge what she meant to him and how it felt to lose her.

Carter placed her a hand on John's face, turning his head so that their eyes met. "Oh my God. That is what you think. How dare you, John Reese? Do you have any idea what I've been through? I was unconscious until three days ago. I wake up in a strange place, missing three weeks of my life. I then find out that I'm at the mercy of the man who kidnapped my son and tried to kill me twice. Not to mention, I didn't know if you were dead or alive." Her voice broke as tears welled in her eyes. "And you have nothing to say." Carter dropped her hand from his face and started to turn. John reached for her, grabbing her arm to stop her. He inched forward, crowding her personal space and forcing her to step back until she felt a wall behind her. Both his hands framed her face, tracing her cheek bones and wiping away the one errant tear that escaped her eye. He brushed his thumb across her lips and then without warning, his lips crashed against hers.

This was not the chaste kiss between friends they shared at the morgue. John poured all of his anger, passion, pain and love for her into this one kiss. He continued to cup her face in his hands, afraid she would pull away from him. Instead, she snaked her arm around his neck, raking her hands through his hair and deepening the kiss.

Finally, they broke apart, chests heaving as they gasped for air. Neither let go. They just stood there, John's arms wrapped protectively around Carter, keeping her in a secure embrace. Her cheek rested against his chest and she felt him lightly kiss the top of her head. She was content to stay in his arms, listening to his heartbeat, however, her still recovering body betrayed her. Joss had no time to react as her knees buckled. John caught her and wrapped her good arm around his waist as he led her to the couch in the den. "A little too much excitement today, Detective?" Carter's heart melted when she saw the mischievous twinkle in John's eyes and his lips turn into a genuine smile.

After starting a fire in the fireplace, John turned back to Carter. He walked to the couch, picking up a red afghan draped over a chair and gently covered her with it. "I'm going to go see if there is anything in the kitchen. There should at least be some tea—it is Finch's house after all." Carter nodded and watched as he disappeared into the kitchen. She could hear him moving things around and opening cabinets. She tried to fight her drooping eyelids but she was sound asleep within minutes.

When John came into the den with two cups of green tea, he smiled when he saw Carter fast asleep. She had awkwardly slumped over onto her injured shoulder. John set the two cups of tea on the coffee table and picked up one of the throw pillows. He settled himself on the other side of the couch and placed the pillow in his lap. Then he gently pulled Carter towards him, so that her head rested on the pillow and she was leaning off of her injured shoulder. John placed one protective arm over her and the other rested on the arm of the couch, mere inches from his gun sitting on the end table. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, not haunted by the image of her lifeless body for the first time in weeks.

* * *

December 9, 2013

When Joss awoke the next morning, she wasn't sure where she was. She then felt a warm arm draped over her and realized what had happened the night before. John was somehow still asleep even though he was sitting up with his head resting at an awkward angle. Joss carefully moved John's arm and pushed herself up. She tiptoed to her discarded coat and reached in the pocket, pulling out Finch's phone. Taking it into the kitchen, she dialed the number displayed on the last text message.

Finch answered on the first ring "Detective, are you and Mr. Reese alright?"

"We're fine, Finch, although I can tell John is concealing how much pain he is in. How seriously was he injured Finch?"

"Three shots to the abdomen, Detective. He left my safe house a week later and has been on the move ever since."

"I was afraid it was something like that."

"Detective, do you have the provisions you need? I see you are at my Owen Island house. It has been a favorite retreat of John's in the past. I've had groceries sent every week since he disappeared on the off chance he might show up there." Joss opened the refrigerator and smiled. It was fully stocked.

"I think we'll be fine, Finch, but you and Shaw should probably head this way. We need a game plan and I'd feel better if Shaw were here to take a look at John. I know she has the most medical training of all of us."

"We'll be leaving shortly so that we can avoid the impending weather. I would expect the authorities to shut down the bridge by late afternoon and I don't have the best of luck flying onto the island."

"Finch, have you looked in on Taylor?"

"Rest assured, Detective. Taylor is safe. Detective Fusco took Taylor and Lee out of town ice fishing yesterday. He is safely tucked away outside of the city."

"Thank you, Finch."

"You are quite welcome, Detective. I'll see you soon." As Joss set the phone onto the kitchen counter, she heard footsteps.

"Who was on the phone, Joss?" Joss turned to see John standing in the doorway. He was still wearing his rumpled white dress shirt and suit pants. His hair was sticking out in all directions and Joss had to stifle a laugh.

"Who do you think? A very worried Harold Finch."

"And what did Harold have to say?"

"He and Shaw are on their way up here."

"Why is Shaw coming?"

"Because you are not one hundred percent and Shaw has more medical training than I do."

"I'm fine, Joss."

"Oh really? Because I don't remember a lot about that night but I do recall Simmons shooting you several times in the stomach. I know I'm not feeling in tip top shape and I've been resting for the past three weeks. And I have it on good authority that you haven't."

"I've been doing enough to prevent any permanent damage." Joss stepped closer so that she was nose to nose with John. Without breaking eye contact, she reached for his shirt, tugging it out of his pants. John closed his hands around hers. "If you wanted to undress me, Detective, all you had to do was ask."

"Let me see how bad it is, John. I need to make sure your gunshot wounds aren't infected."

"Joss, I've been shot, stabbed and drugged more times than I can count."

"Then let me see for myself." Joss pouted and John couldn't deny her anything. He lifted his shirt for her to inspect his stitches. Joss scrunched her forehead and lightly touched the healing marks marring his skin. John shivered at her touch, but not from pain.

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Joss." He took her hand and threaded their fingers together.

"John, why are some of these fresh stitches? They should be more healed than this." John grimaced. She wasn't going to like the answer.

"I've busted a few stitches over the last few weeks."

"How many is a few."

"Eight."

"And who has been patching you up?" Joss questioned.

"An old friend, Dr. Tillman."

Joss bit her bottom lip, "The young pretty one you saved?"

John arched an eyebrow in surprise. "How do you know about Megan?"

"Let's just say a little birdie told me about her. After the whole Snow and Kara debacle, he said she patched you up. Apparently, you would let her help you but not me." John was shocked at the tinge of bitterness in Carter's voice. Their estrangement had ended months ago, but they had never really talked about it. He had no idea it had upset her that much. John knew that their separation had deeply impacted him, but he had assumed that Carter hadn't missed the turmoil he and Finch brought into her life.

John was about to respond when Carter's phone buzzed. She looked down "It's Finch again." She went to answer the phone when John stopped her.

"We're going to talk about this Joss but before we do anything else, you have to know that I thought I was protecting you. I missed you every second we weren't talking." Carter was speechless. The phone continued to buzz on the table.

She picked it up "Hi Finch."


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Person of Interest or its characters.

A/N: Hi everyone. Here's the latest update. I'm taking a little break from the story progression. Don't worry. We'll catch back up with what Simmons is plotting and the rest of the gang. For now, I wanted to have some Careese development. This chapter and probably the next two will be about them. Thanks again for all of the reviews. I can't tell you how much I appreciate them!

Chapter 9

December 8, 2013

Joss hung up the phone and turned to John. "Finch says it's slow going. It's going to take them a few hours to get here, but he thinks they'll make it by dusk."

"He's that anxious to get here?" John asked.

"He says he has some leads on Simmons, and I can tell by his voice, he's been really worried about you. I think he wants to see for himself that you're still alive and well. You didn't exactly stop to chat last night" Joss responded.

John brushed by her and started to make a pot of coffee. He opened the refrigerator and perused the shelves. "Are you hungry?"

Joss's stomach churned at the thought of food. After waking up from her coma, she hadn't managed to choke down a full meal. Soup was about all she could manage and only a small amount. "Honestly, not really. Are you?"

John shook his head. They both stood in awkward silence staring at the coffee pot as it brewed. Both were ignoring the elephant in the room—the kiss from last night. Joss went to a cabinet above the coffee pot and attempted to reach for two mugs, out of reach. John stepped up behind her and reached over her head, easily grabbing the cups. He set them in front of her and hesitated. She could feel the heat from his body as it pressed against her. He then reached around her, his arms encircling her as he poured coffee into both mugs. Joss picked up her cup, carefully balanced in one hand and smelled the comforting aroma. John grabbed his mug and backed away. For a moment, Joss felt a sense of loneliness at the loss of comfort John's closeness brought. After everything they had been through the last few weeks, Joss Carter was finally admitting to herself that there was something much deeper than friendship between them. At least as far as she was concerned.

Joss yet again broke the silence. "So . . . how are we going to pass the time?"

John gave her a mischievous grin, "Well, Joss, I'm going to give you what you've wanted since the day we met."

Joss knew this was just their usual flirty banter but she couldn't help the butterflies his words evoked. "And what is that?"

"The chance to interrogate me, for real this time, Detective. You get ten questions that I promise to answer. No more, no less." John continued to grin at the incredulous look on her face.

"What's the catch, John?"

"Always the skeptic. I get ten questions out of you."

"Anything off limits?" Joss questioned. She couldn't suppress the smile as she asked.

John shook his head. "Nope. Are you brave enough to accept the challenge, Detective?" John reached out his hand. "Or are you afraid of what I might ask?" He knew Joss would never give him the satisfaction of calling her chicken.

"Ok, fine. I'll play but I get to go first." Joss said grudgingly. She firmly shook John's hand and stalked to the living room, plopping down in one of the overstuffed chairs. She set her coffee on the end table and covered herself with the red afghan, staring at John expectantly.

John sat down on the couch, stretching his legs and sipping his coffee. The former interrogator and the former CIA agent both gave each other an appraising look. Joss knew immediately what her first question would be. "Why did you constantly contact me when you and Finch started your two person crusade?"

John smiled at her first question thinking back to when they first met in her precinct. "That's a simple one, Carter. You saw me when no one else did. I could tell by your eyes that you didn't just see a homeless drunken bum. You saw a person; you saw the person I hadn't been in a long time." John paused taking a deep breath. As the silence stretched, Carter wondered if he was finished but then he continued. "Before the subway fight, I was in pretty bad shape. I didn't really care if I lived or died. Like I told you in the morgue, you saved me. I just didn't want to lose contact with you, so I started our cat and mouse game as a way to keep you in my life."

Joss sat there silently contemplating his answer. She had thought she knew the answer, especially after his words in the morgue, but part of her had always needed to here it—a full explanation from the man himself. "I will tell you, Finch was not amused. Next question." John said breaking her train of thought.

"Why did you forgive me after I turned you over to Snow?" Joss asked quietly. She knew it had been over a year and their relationship had come so far since that night on top of the parking garage. Joss Carter, however, was still haunted by the memory of the look in John's eyes that night.

"I was kind of hoping for what's your favorite color, boxers or briefs, college major, but they're your ten questions. Joss, there was nothing to forgive that night. Snow was a master manipulator. I knew that you would never have agreed to help Snow if you had known what he was up to. You moral compass is always pointed in the right direction." John thought he saw unshed tears in her eyes, but she looked away.

Quietly, Joss said "I should have known. I am a detective." It took all of John's resolve not to go to her in that moment and wrap her in his arms. He knew that she was dealing with a lot of emotions as a result of the last few weeks, and he didn't want to add to her turmoil. He wouldn't make any more unwanted advances. She had kissed him back last night; he was sure of that, but they had acted like nothing had happened this morning. He didn't want to push her.

John responded "Listen, Joss, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. We don't have to do this."

Joss coughed and then turned back to John "No way. I still have eight questions left. Now, how does Finch's super computer work?" John choked on his coffee and looked at Joss with an eyebrow raised. Joss continued, "I am a detective after all. Finch had the same expression when I told him I had figured it out. It is the only thing that made sense—how you two can know when people are in trouble before they know themselves."

John smirked. Of course she would have put the pieces together. "This is really a better question for Finch, but I'll tell you what I know. Finch built this computer. We call it The Machine."

Joss giggled, "Really? He couldn't come up with a better name than that?"

John shushed Carter, "Do you want to make fun of the name or do you want me to answer your question?" Joss made an exaggerated motion with her hand indicating her lips were sealed. "The Machine gives us a number, usually a social security number but not always. The number represents an "irrelevant." An ordinary person who is either in trouble or is about to cause it-what we call a number. Finch originally built The Machine to decipher threats to national security, but it saw a lot more. It produced a list of numbers representing people in trouble, premeditated crimes, so Finch recruited me to intervene." Carter's head was reeling. Was it possible that a computer could see crimes before they happened? She had had some idea after working with the guys but the magnitude of it still shocked her.

"So all of these people you have met, all of these cases, you call numbers?" John nodded his head. "Then tell me, who was your favorite person you met working a number?" Joss knew when she asked the question that she might not like the answer. Megan Tillman must have been a number and she suspected Zoe Morgan probably had been too.

John smiled as he began to answer, "I swear, Carter, if you tell him, I'll deny it." Carter leaned in. Him? "While I was working my first number, I met Lionel. He actually tried to kill me and that's when I enlisted him to be my spy at the NYPD and later my mole in HR. I knew when I met him, he was loyal and had a good heart. I guess I could see myself in Fusco. He had gotten lost and needed to find his way again. Even though I've given him hell, he's been a real friend to me and that's not something I take lightly."

Carter interjected, trying to keep a straight face, "Should I be jealous of your bromance with Fusco?"

"Well, Carter, you did ask about a person I met while working a number. Technically, I didn't meet you through a number." John winked.

Carter didn't know why she was blushing, but she got up from her chair and made her way to the kitchen. "I think I am starting to get an appetite. I'm going to scramble some eggs." John knew her cues. She needed a break.

"Sure, I think I'll go clean up. I'm just going to make sure the alarm is armed. Please take your nano in the kitchen." Normally she would make a snarky remark about being able to take care of herself, but she saw the exhaustion and the concern in his eyes. She nodded silently and watched as he went to check the alarm and then bounded up the stairs.

When John returned to the kitchen, he found Carter seated at the island, picking at a plate of scrambled eggs. She had placed a second plate of eggs in front of the chair next to hers along with a glass of orange juice. John sat down silently and began eating the eggs. The eggs were still warm—she must have waited until she heard the shower turn off. John took a sip of the orange juice and heard Joss ask softly "Did you ever want a normal life—wife, kids, the white picket fence?"

John had to admit that he was a little surprised by the question. Sometimes he wished he had a window into Carter's head. He wasn't sure if she only saw the man post-CIA or if sometimes she caught a glimpse of the man he used to be before the Agency came knocking. John took another fork full of eggs before answering. "When I met Jessica, I wanted it all. I wanted to move back to a small town, get married, raise a family, but then 9-11 happened. I'd always been a soldier and felt a sense of duty. When I joined the Army, I let it define who I was to the core. I know in some ways I used 9-11 as an excuse to go back to the life I knew and not take a risk. Regardless, I knew military life would be too hard for Jessica. She was a wonderful, warm woman, but she struggled with hardship. She needed a husband who came home every night, who was stable. When she died, I thought any dream of settling down and having a family died with her, but I have to admit those thoughts have come up again, like when I worked Leila's case."

Carter thought back to the image of John with Baby Leila. She had seen an entirely different side of him that day. That image brought with it all kinds of feelings that she was having trouble understanding. Carter turned her head to the side to look at John. "I understand re-enlisting but what made you say yes when the CIA showed up?"

Carter's question was one John had asked himself many times over the years. He usually asked it in the context of where would be now if he had just said no. "I thought it was a way to do some good—to protect people. I was wrong. I morphed into someone I couldn't recognize. You once called me a "good man", Joss. If you knew what I had done during those years, I don't think you would hold that same opinion." Joss placed her hand over his and they finished their breakfast in silence.

Joss started to clear the dishes and John stopped her. "You cooked. I've got the dishes. Why don't you take a look around the house? Finch has a pretty extensive library here."

Joss nodded and began to leave the kitchen but stopped. "You're a good man now, John. That's what matters. We've all made mistakes; the size of the mistake is only dependent on where life placed us in that moment. I may not have done the things you did while in the CIA, but I can't say I wouldn't have if I had been in your place." With that statement, Joss left the room and John stared out of the window at the falling snow. Was he prepared to answer her last four questions? Was he ready to ask her the one question he needed answered?


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own Person of Interest or its characters. If I did, the show would be going in a much different direction.

A/N: Here's a weekend bonus chapter! I'm going to be swamped this week so unless some crazy snow gets me off work, there probably will not be another chapter until next weekend. My reviewers are still as awesome as ever. Special thanks to SWWoman and blacktop. I've been reading your stories since you started in this fandom. Thanks for taking the time to read and review mine. Also special thanks to my guest reviewers, ravenhusker, kaydimz, stlouiegal, mschessplayer, Ai, Dutchie and literaturechik. You all are my loyal core reviewers. Thank you so much!

Chapter 10

December 8, 2013

As Carter stood glancing at the bleak sky, she thought about the questions she had chosen to ask John. She knew some might think she had "wasted" a couple of her ten precious questions, but it was strategy. If she knew anything, she had learned to read John Reese and his moods. He could only take so much sharing and emotion before he completely shut down. She would have to tread lightly if she was going to make the most of her remaining questions. Always the interrogator, she knew exactly which questions she wanted to ask and numbered them in her head. There was, however, one huge question she knew she was not prepared to ask yet. The one question she probably most needed answered, but that would have to wait until Simmons was neutralized and Joss Carter was officially "alive" again.

John pushed the mahogany door open and saw Carter leaned against the window frame. The outside world was bleached of all color—the sky was gray and everything was coated in white. It matched the mood inside the house. John knew that he and Carter weren't the kind of people to share their innermost feelings. In some ways they were so similar that when they shared a glance, he knew what she was thinking. Today, however, she seemed closed off. He couldn't read what was going through her head. He hoped when he started asking the questions, he could figure out what the rift was between them. Was it the trauma of the last few weeks or was it something more?

When Carter turned from the window, she saw John staring at her. She gave him a smile and took a spot in one of the brown leather wing-back chairs. John sat down in the other, propping his feet on the coffee table. He knew Harold would not approve. "So, Detective, four more questions. Better make them count."

Carter smirked "Oh don't worry, I will. So, John, how is Zoe these days?" John chuckled at the question and it gave his heart a lift. Did he detect a hint of jealously when it came to Zoe Morgan?

"I wouldn't know. I haven't seen her since the Murphy case." Carter could feel a thrill of excitement at his answer. She had figured out quite some time ago that John and Zoe's relationship had moved from acquaintance to something less platonic. And Joss Carter didn't like it one bit. It was even more obvious when Zoe showed up for the undercover operation at Blur. Zoe detested the concern in John's voice when it came to Joss. Carter knew when a woman was threatened and when Zoe Morgan flashed her pink taser, her gift from John, it was written all over her face. It was even more apparent to Joss when Zoe dragged John to their post undercover celebration, leaving him waiting outside. Zoe was marking her territory and announcing to Joss Carter that John was off limits. Knowing that whatever was going on between the two was over, gave Joss an enormous sense of relief. One less complication in an already thorny relationship.

Joss didn't revel in her new-found knowledge for too long. She was ready to tackle a subject that had bugged her for months. The entire sequence of events with Rikers, Mark Snow and Kara Stanton had left Carter with emotions that ran the gambit. "Do you know why Kara Stanton left me alive after she killed Donnelly?"

Carter's question stunned him. He had assumed she was out cold when Kara shot Donnelly.

* * *

November 17, 2012 

_John could hear the crunching of glass under boots as his former partner approached. Her witch's voice called in a sinister greeting and all John could think about was Carter. He managed to touch her neck and confirm she had a pulse. John turned when he heard the gunshots as Kara murdered Agent Donnelly. He attempted to block Kara's view of Carter but at the worst possible moment, Carter moaned, revealing she had survived the crash._

"_Don't worry, lover. I'll leave your girlfriend alone for now. Let her be your incentive to cooperate. You know how easily I can take her out." Then everything went black._

* * *

"Kara and I learned quickly in our line of work what motivates people and what breaks people. There's always a careful balance between controlling someone and destroying someone. If you push people too far, they start to fight back because they have nothing to lose. She knew she would have no control over me, bomb vest or not, if she killed you."

Carter pressed on—two questions left. "If I was that important, why did you cut me out of your life after Rikers?" John took a deep breath and released it. He knew this question was coming. They had touched on it this morning before they made their little question pact.

"Do you really have to ask?"

Carter felt the anger from so many months ago resurfacing. "Yes, John, I have to ask. You abandoned me. After all your platitudes that I could trust you and that I was never alone, you walked away. I want to know why."

Now he was getting angry. She did this to him. His feelings for her were always so intense, whether it was passion or anger. They had learned early on how to push each other's buttons. "Because, Joss, you got too close to losing everything. You were taking way too many risks. You should have turned me over to Donnelly in the bank. Then you get caught with me and if not for Donnelly's unfortunate end at Kara's hands, you would either be in prison or living under some alias and separated from Taylor for the rest of your life. We narrowly escaped that disaster, and you dive head first into another one tracking me down when you knew I was wearing a bomb vest. At that point, I hadn't even heard about your adventure to swap the DNA samples. Whatever your attachment to me was, it was making you reckless and I couldn't let you keep doing it."

Carter had hit her boiling point and she started shouting. "Did you ever think that maybe you can't control everything? It wasn't your choice. I am a grown woman, a mother and an NYPD homicide detective. I can make my own decisions. You don't get to play God with my life, John Reese. I'll do things my own way and you can't stop me."

"Clearly not since you set things up to take down HR in your 'own way' and I had to hold you dying in my arms."

"Well then, let's go ahead and get this all out on the table. Here's my last question. What if I was dead, John? Was that going to be your excuse to go back to drinking yourself to death? To abandon all of the good you and Harold were doing?" John gritted his teeth before answering her.

"I hadn't gotten much past the plan to hunt down Simmons and Quinn, make them beg for death and then dump their bodies in Oyster Bay." With his last statement, John stormed out of the library, slamming the door behind him. She did this to him—she drove him crazy and yet, whether they were friends or something more, John didn't want to live in a world without Joss Carter.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Joss found him in the kitchen stirring a pot of soup. He ladled the warm broth into two bowls. "Are you hungry?" he asked softly. She nodded and sat at the island as he put the steaming bowl in front of her. He settled himself into the second chair and began eating.

"So turnabouts fair play. You're up. Ten questions" Joss stated.

John paused and then asked "What is the one thing in the City you've always wanted to do?"

Joss gave him a disbelieving look. "That's the question you ask? I just sent you through an emotional wringer and you want to know what I want to do in the City?"

"My questions, Carter. I'm waiting for your answer."

"Fine. I've always wanted to dance under the stars in the park next to the Queensboro Bridge to 'As Time Goes By.' I'm a hopeless romantic. Happy now. "

John laughed, "I never knew you were a fan of the classics. _Casablanca_ huh?"

"Do they get much better? Love, loss, sacrifice and people that can actually act. You have to admit, it has it all" she replied.

"You don't have to convince me. It's one of my favorites." John cataloged her answer in his head. That simple question had the desired effect. They had fallen back into their easy banter, their earlier argument forgotten for now.

John decided to keep things somewhat lighter before he pushed for more serious answers. "Tell me this. What was so appealing about Ian Murphy? He acted like a stalker and yet, you let him kiss you."

Joss thought before she answered. Bingo! He was jealous. "I agreed to questions, not commentary. Ian was a nice guy. He was considerate and treated me like a lady which is something that doesn't happen all that often." Now John felt like a cad. Of course she was attracted to someone like Ian Murphy. He had invited her to a nice home cooked dinner and had been attentive—not takeout in her police car while they were staking out a new number or only calling when he needed her help on a case.

He knew his next question would not go over well, but he had bitten his tongue long enough. He had to know. "Why was Elias protecting you?"

Joss knew it was coming and was surprised he had waited this long to ask. "Elias felt like he owed me a debt."

"That doesn't tell me anything. Why?" John questioned.

"Because I saved his life." John's jaw dropped with the realization.

"That night you told me about HR's plot against Elias. You intervened? With no backup?" Joss nodded her head. "What the hell were you thinking, Carter?"

"I was thinking that I'm a cop who knew about a murder that was about to happen. I had to do something." She spat the words at him.

"He tried to kill you and kidnapped your son but you still risked your life to save that lowlife."

"Yes, John. I'm a cop. I save people. I don't get to pick and choose who to save. No one should be gunned down in cold blood, not even Elias." Her choice of words sent a shiver through him as the image of her lifeless body surfaced from his memory. He knew she was right. It was part of the reason he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Joss Carter was a good cop and a good person to the core. She had this unwavering way of determining right from wrong. "And strangely enough, that lowlife is why I'm still alive. If he hadn't intervened, some of HR's lackeys had orders to finish me off at the hospital" she continued. "But you'll be happy to know that Elias thinks all debts are paid and we are back to being enemies."

Any dealings with Elias made John uneasy, but he couldn't deny the man got results. He had somehow managed to keep Carter alive which put John into a difficult situation. Elias was the villain in the story, but he had saved the one person John Reese could not live without. John turned to Carter who was waiting expectantly. Without a word, John walked out of the library. Carter sighed in frustration. Was every answer going to make him mad? She was surprised when he returned within minutes holding a manila envelope in his hand. Recognition dawned on Carter's face. Of course he would have questions about that.

John wordlessly placed the envelope in Carter's lap. "Want to explain this?"

"I think it's rather self explanatory, John."

"Humor me and fill in some of the blanks." Carter pulled the photograph of John and Jessica from the envelope and stared at it. She wondered what path they would all be on if John hadn't left Jessica. Who would he be today? Who would she be because they would have never met?

"When I was in New Rochelle with Donnelly, we met Jessica's mother. She described a man, a lost love of Jessica's. When she described him, I got suspicious and asked if she had a picture of them together. She said that she didn't think so but some of Jessica's things were stored away. She gave me permission to go through them. I found this tucked away in a jewelry box. I know women, John. You don't save pictures in your jewelry box of exes unless there is still something there. She still loved you. When I saw the picture, I knew that you needed to see it, but I wasn't sure how you would react. I didn't want you to think I was invading your privacy, but I also wanted to return part of your past to you. The good memories that the CIA took away from you. I know it was stupid."

John didn't know how to respond. He had been shocked when Taylor had given him the photo, but her explanation was so heartfelt it left him speechless. He bent down next to her chair, placing his hand over hers and giving it a tight squeeze. "Thank you. It means more than you know." He didn't elaborate that what meant the most was not the picture, but her words written on the back of the photo.

"Carter, I know you. Does that mean you figured out my true identity?" Carter nodded her head.

"I used one of my military contacts. I didn't read your file—just your name, birth date and hometown. I shredded the file after the Jennings situation. I figured that if you wanted me to know, you would tell me yourself." John contemplated her answer. There had been many times he wanted to tell Carter about who he had been before the CIA, about his family, his childhood, but that knowledge placed her in even more danger. Only Finch knew who he had once been and to the world Harold Finch didn't exist. Soon Joss Carter would be back amongst the living, not in the shadows with John and Finch.

John stood and walked to the door. "It's getting a little chilly. I'm going to start a fire in the den."

Joss followed him and reached for the phone in her pocket. "I better call Finch and make sure that he and Shaw haven't killed each other. They've been cooped up in a car together for quite some time." John couldn't suppress a smile as he got that mental picture.

A few minutes later they reconvened in the den, taking their usual spots. Joss laughed as she described the conversation with Finch. Apparently, Shaw was driving as if she was qualifying for the Indy 500. The problem, however, was that there was no direct route to Owen Island as the officials continued to close roads. What made the situation even funnier is that she could hear Bear barking in the background. Poor Finch. John chuckled as well but then schooled his face into a serious expression. Back to business.

He wrinkled his brow as he faced her. "Why did you let us believe Paul was dead?" Carter tried to act shocked that he thought that but knew it was a valid question. John had mentioned Taylor's dad in the past and she had never corrected his assumption that Paul was dead.

"I guess to me it was like Paul was dead. The man I married was gone. Paul was not well when he returned stateside. I would have stood by him but he refused to get help. One night I found him asleep on the kitchen floor, cradling a gun with Taylor in the house. That was the last straw. My son came first so I threw Paul out. Shortly after I made detective, Paul popped back up saying that he had gotten help. I wasn't ready to let him in again, so I blew him off. Taylor and I were doing fine on our own. A few months ago, though, Taylor brought him up. Taylor hadn't mentioned Paul in years. That was about the time Cal was killed and HR was targeting me. I decided if Paul had really changed, he needed to be in Taylor's life, especially if anything happened. . . ." She let her voice trail off when she saw the pain in John's eyes at her words.

John cringed inwardly. She had been planning on not coming out of the HR situation alive. He had suspected as much but hearing confirmation was not easy. "So if you hadn't talked to Taylor the night you confronted Quinn, would you have called me?"

Suddenly all of the pieces fell into place as the truth dawned on Carter. "You called Taylor that night! He was parroting what you told him. I knew his words sounded like you! John, you used my son!" she stated indignantly.

"I absolutely used him and he was a willing accomplice. I recognize a suicide mission when I see one, Carter. You still haven't answered my question. Were you going to call me if you hadn't talked to Taylor?"

Joss slowly nodded her head "No. It was my battle, John. Something I had to finish and I didn't want to put anyone at risk."

"Except yourself," he growled. "Why, Carter? Were you so in love with Cal Beecher that nothing else mattered but avenging his death? Not your son, your mother, your friends?"

Carter sat stunned. He thought this was because of some great love for Cal. "No, John. It was about stopping a corrupt organization from hurting anyone else. It wasn't just about Cal. It was about Szymanski and the ADA who was gunned down. It was about Laskey and all of the other young cops they corrupted. Yes, I cared about Cal and I wronged him. I accused him of being a dirty cop and he died thinking I didn't trust him. He didn't deserve to die in that hellhole stairwell. HR had taken away too many good people that tried to stand in their way. I couldn't let it continue. Maybe if things had been different, in a different life, I could have loved Cal, but we never got that chance. He was a good person and a good cop who deserved better than what he got."

By this point, John was pacing the den. Joss stood and placed a hand on his shoulder. John turned to face her. He encircled her waist with one hand and cupped her cheek with the other. "Why did you step in front of me when Simmons started shooting?"

Joss took in a shaky breath. Everything was hazy and she was having trouble thinking with him this close. "You didn't have a weapon, John. I couldn't let him kill you." She couldn't make herself voice the rest of her thought. _Because I love you. _

He inched closer and she could feel his breath on her face as he whispered his last question. "I want you to know that no matter your answer, I'll always be here for you, but I need to know. Joss, do you feel anything more for me than friendship?" Carter opened her mouth to answer but stopped when they both heard the scratching of paws and a loud bark outside the door. John leaned his cheek against hers for the briefest moment and sighed in frustration. "Excellent timing as always." He pulled away from Carter and walked to the door to find a frazzled Finch, a pissed off Shaw and a tail wagging Bear.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Person of Interest or any of its characters.

A/N: Thanks again for all of the reviews. I'm glad most of you enjoyed the last chapter. This one took me awhile. I felt like I had written myself into a corner. And I got distracted by all of the Valentine's Day Careese stories and updates. Don't worry though, there will be more Careese in the story but this chapter gets the plot moving again. Hopefully I can get another chapter out by midweek.

Chapter 11

December 8, 2013—December 9, 2013 (early morning)

Bear bounded through the door, almost sending his master to the floor. Close behind him, Shaw pushed her way inside, calling "I hope you and your 'just friend' are decent because I need a drink." Completing the trio, Harold entered the house, lugging his laptop, and wearing a weary expression. His usually pristine tweed sport coat was wrinkled, his hair was mussed and his glasses were slightly askew. John glanced over at Joss forlornly—another missed moment.

Joss stepped forward as Shaw continued towards the kitchen. Joss stood in front of Harold clasping his hands. Harold cleared his throat "It's good to see you, Detective. " Joss leaned in and kissed Harold on the cheek. Harold looked down, slightly bashful at the show of affection.

"You too, Harold." Suddenly, all three looked in the direction of Shaw's retreat as they heard cabinets slamming, and dishes clanging. Joss started for the kitchen. "I better show her where the liquor is before she tears the place apart. Both men watched as Joss disappeared from sight, rounding the corner, headed for the kitchen.

Harold and John stood awkwardly, neither one making eye contact. Harold broke the silence. "I'm glad to see you are well, Mr. Reese."

"Thanks, Finch. Carter said you had a lead on Simmons."

Harold pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and readjusted the laptop case on his shoulder. "Yes, Mr. Reese. The Machine has given us two numbers. I'll need to get set up in the library and then I can brief you and Ms. Shaw."

"Finch, I'm not working for The Machine again. I'm not doing anything until I take care of Simmons and make sure Carter is safe. No numbers."

"Mr. Reese, I think when I explain the situation, you'll change your mind."

"I'm not going to change my mind, Finch. Why work for The Machine, if it can't help me protect her?"

"Mr. Reese, The Machine is not omniscient. I didn't design it that way or I would have been playing God. I programmed it in this way to leave a human element in the equation. It is your choice whether to continue to work with us, Mr. Reese but it would be to your benefit to hear me out concerning the two most recent numbers." Harold walked in the opposite direction of the kitchen. John stood, not sure where to go. He wanted to go into the kitchen. Whenever Carter was out of sight, he had a heightened sense of uneasiness. He knew he wouldn't be able to watch her every moment, but the memories of her 'death' were still too fresh in his mind.

As John contemplated his decision, Bear whined. "Come on, boy." John forced himself to follow Harold into the library. He settled himself in one of the leather chairs he had occupied just hours before with Carter and waited for Harold to speak.

* * *

When Carter entered the kitchen, she found Shaw tearing the place apart. Dishes scattered the counter, cabinet doors were ajar and the refrigerator door was open. "After that many hours in the car with Finch, there better be alcohol."

Carter laughed and pointed. "Top cabinet on the left. I spotted the Scotch when I got here last night or was that early this morning?" Carter struggled to keep track of time with the whirlwind of the past few days.

Shaw immediately bolted for the cabinet, snagging the bottle and setting out two glasses. She poured a generous portion into her glass and then lifted an eyebrow at Carter. "You in. You probably need it more than me. You've been cooped up all day with Mr. Tall, Dark and Brooding." Joss smiled and nodded. Shaw poured a glass and slid it towards Carter.

"How are you, Shaw? I'm guessing Finch has been keeping you busy."

"Better since your resurrection. I don't see how you put up with those two on a regular basis. Don't get me started when you add Lionel into the mix. These past three weeks have been hell. Finch has been giving us all these puppy dog looks like he lost his best friend. John, before he went MIA, made brooding an Olympic sport and Lionel was just so damn annoying. Constantly lamenting about honoring your memory by bringing HR to justice." Shaw paused and took a long swig of her drink. Joss took her glass and upended it, drinking the entire contents before putting the glass onto the tile countertop. Shaw gave a low whistle "I guess I was right. Need another one?"

Joss shook her head. "I think I'm going to go upstairs and clean up." Shaw picked up the bottle, refilling her glass and lifted it in a salute as Carter left the room. Joss's head was spinning. Could she bring herself to put everything on the line and answer John's question truthfully? She had to admit she was glad for the interruption. She hadn't put her heart at risk like this in a very long time. With the current turmoil, she didn't think she could handle another stressor. Figuring out 'whatever this was' between herself and John Reese would have to wait.

* * *

John was almost lulled to sleep at the rhythmic sound of Harold typing on his computer. The buzzing of Finch's phone brought John out of his stupor. He perked up as he heard Harold speak. "Yes, Detective. Are you and the boys alright?" Harold turned the phone onto speaker.

Reese could hear an exasperated Lionel over the phone. "They're fine. Having a ball snowboarding and ice fishing with my mom and dad. Listen, Finch. I'm headed back to the City. I know things are heating up and I'm not sitting this one out. She was my partner, my friend. If you and Shaw are about to make a move on Simmons, I'm going to be there."

"I understand, Detective. Where are you now?"

"I just got on the road. Snow is pretty bad."

"I'm looking at your coordinates. You are actually closer to us than the City."

"What do you mean, Finch? You're not in the City?" Lionel questioned.

"No, Detective. Ms. Shaw and I are on Owen Island. I am sending you directions. I think it best you meet us here."

Fusco paused before answering "Ok, Glasses. Whatever you say. Looks like I should be there soon."

"Drive safe, Detective." As Finch disconnected the call, Shaw stalked into the room, plopping down in the other leather chair, boots propped on the coffee table. Finch gave her a look of disgust and Reese thought he caught Harold rolling his eyes.

"So, Finch, have you told him about our numbers?" Shaw asked.

John interrupted before Finch could answer. "I've already told Finch that I don't work for The Machine and I don't work numbers. My only focus is taking out Simmons and ensuring Carter's safety."

Finch swiveled in his desk chair. "Mr. Reese, we currently have two numbers that I think are connected to Simmons. I will need both you and Ms. Shaw to assist in this matter. These numbers need to be protected. I will need you, Mr. Reese, to protect Jo Taylor. Ms. Shaw will have to intervene with Isabella O'Malley if we are not too late. I fear we are too late to prevent what has happened to Miss O'Malley, but hopefully we can stage a rescue."

"No fair, Finch. After I've been working overtime, I get stuck with the kid. Make Reese watch the kid," Shaw complained.

John interrupted their spat. "I'm not watching any number. I don't know who Jo Taylor is but unless this number is leading me straight to Simmons, I'm out."

All three turned as Joss spoke from the hallway. "So, Finch I'm one of your numbers?"

John turned to Carter. "What are you talking about?"

"Jo Taylor was the alias Elias gave me."

"The Machine gave you Joss's number again, Finch?" John felt his earlier uneasiness grow to almost panic levels. "Do you know why?" Harold typed on his computer brining up an image outside of Elias's safe house in Brighton Beach. The camera image was dated December 5, 2013. All four watched as Patrick Simmons stalked from the shadows and broke into Dr. Sabatini's car. John questioned "Whose car is that?"

Joss answered "That's Dr, Sabatini. He was responsible for my care when I was with Elias."

John whirled around, eyeing Finch. "Harold, does he know she's alive?"

"I'm afraid so, Mr. Reese. I received Jo Taylor's number two days ago."

"Wait" Shaw interjected. "Finch, you said both numbers were connected to Simmons. How is Isabella O'Malley involved in all of this?"

"Miss O'Malley is the twelve year-old daughter of George and Allison O'Malley." Finch began, pulling up images of the O'Malley family.

"Wait a minute. George O'Malley is an assistant DA. I've worked with him before. He's assigned to the domestic violence unit—he handles the high profile DV murder cases," Carter interjected.

"That is correct, Detective. And Mrs. O'Malley is also an attorney who works for the non-profit 'There's Always Hope' which helps abused women and children," Finch stated.

"There is no way George is dirty. So what is the connection to Simmons?" Carter asked.

"Isabella O'Malley is also the only grandchild of Robert Sabatini," Finch explained.

"So, Simmons is the threat to the girl?" Shaw asked.

"He thinks Sabatini is his ticket to Carter," Reese stated solemnly. He glanced at Carter, holding her gaze for a few seconds.

"I'm afraid so. I was just able to access this surveillance footage outside of Miss O'Malley's school." All four leaned in to look at the grainy surveillance. They could see a preteen girl who they assumed was Isabella walking from the school building. She was in a school uniform-plaid skirt, white button up shirt, tie and a black wool pea coat. Isabella paused to wave to two classmates and then turned right, walking uptown. The footage switched to the camera on the west side of the school and continued to track Isabella's journey. Suddenly, a black SUV pulled in front of her, blocking her path. Three men leapt from the SUV and had the child tucked away in the back of the vehicle in mere seconds.

John leaned in closer to the screen. "Where's the school's security?"

"Apparently, Mr. Reese, there is only one security guard on the weekends. Miss O'Malley and her classmates were at school practicing for a mock trial competition when she was abducted," Finch explained.

"Finch, go back and freeze the image where they grab the girl," Shaw demanded. Finch stopped the video at the spot Shaw indicated. "I know those guys. Bulgarians out of Brighton Beach. They're making a play for territory with the Russians and HR out of commission. I had a run in with them three numbers ago."

Carter stepped away from the computer and paced. "The Bulgarians wouldn't work for free. How is Simmons bankrolling this? I know that the FBI froze all known HR accounts and most of Simmons' top ranking allies are dead or in custody."

"I think I may have an answer, Detective." Finch typed rapidly and pulled up several bank statements onto the screen. "It appears that one of HR's allies has managed to stay under the radar. Councilman Ryan Belton."

Carter scoffed "That little weasel. Of course he was backing HR. He was always pushing Quinn's agenda. Finch, have you noticed any unusual transfers lately?"

"I've seen five large withdrawals in the last three weeks. One was made just a few hours ago," Finch responded.

"That must be the down payment for the girl's kidnapping. So Belton is my ticket to Simmons," John stated to no one in particular.

"It appears so, Mr. Reese." Finch said.

"I know that look, John. You are not going to go find Belton and hang him over the side of a building." As Carter spoke she placed her hand on John's arm. The intensity of their gaze even made Shaw feel as if she was an intruder in an intimate moment.

Finch cleared his throat. "I think we can handle Belton with a little more finesse and a little less violence. It seems we have a mutual friend in common with Mr. Belton. Ms. Morgan."

All four turned when they heard a pounding on the front door. Shaw and Reese immediately reached for their firearms. Finch checked his phone. "I believe that is Detective Fusco."

Carter's eyes widened. "Fusco's here? Where are the kids?"

"No need to worry, Detective Carter. The boys are safely with Detective Fusco's parents. According to the Detective, they are having a ball and his parents are delighted to have them." Carter smiled thinking of Taylor and Lee ice fishing and snowboarding. Both of those boys needed a retreat from the chaos their parents' jobs had brought to them.

Shaw and Reese proceeded to the door, leaving Finch and Carter in the library. When Reese opened the door, he was greeted by a snow-covered Fusco. "It's about time. I'm nearly frozen—car died a half mile back. Didn't know you would be here, Mr. Sunshine." Lionel stepped into the hall, shrugging off his coat and discarding his wet gloves. He was soaked to the bone.

"I don't need to see a striptease, Lionel," Shaw quipped.

"Ha! Ha! Very funny. I could have died out there," Lionel stated.

"If only we could have been so lucky. Then I wouldn't be stuck listening to your whining for the rest of the night," Shaw retorted. John stalked away, leaving the two to their strange 'sibling rivalry.' As he turned to leave the front room, Carter appeared.

Lionel froze as he came face to face with his dead partner. "What the hell? I should have known Simmons couldn't take you down. It's damn good to see you, Partner." Fusco was stunned and surprised he could even speak.

"You too, Fusco. Thanks for looking after my boy." Lionel nodded staring downward. He was shocked when Carter wrapped her arms around him in a brief but tight hug. She released him and they both smiled.

"Someone want to clue me in on what the hell is going on here?" Fusco questioned.

"Maybe we should all go into the kitchen and have some tea," Finch suggested.

John turned to walk towards the kitchen. "I think we all could use something stronger if Shaw hasn't finished off the Scotch." The emotionally drained team followed Reese into the kitchen.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own Person of Interest or any of its characters.

A/N: So I guess the last chapter wasn't popular based on the small number of reviews but it was necessary to move the story along. Thanks to my always faithful reviewers that I can always depend on, even in the slow chapters! It looks like the story is winding down—I'm thinking only two more chapters and maybe an epilogue which makes me sad. I've really enjoyed writing this story. Thank you all for reading!

Chapter 12

December 9, 2013

All five team members made it back to the City in a mere two hours. Luckily the snow stopped midday and the snow plows and salt trucks had done their jobs. Much to John's chagrin, he was driving Finch's car, with Finch and Fusco, while Shaw was the lead car with Carter and Bear. He still couldn't figure out how Shaw had arranged that. Once they entered the City, each car took a preplanned circuitous route, all meeting at the Library, after ensuring no one was tailing them.

On the return trip from Owen Island, John had placed a call to Zoe Morgan, arranging to meet her at the Coronet Hotel bar in three hours to discuss what information she could provide on Ryan Belton. Reese dropped Fusco and Finch close to the Library and then parked the car a few blocks away. He was the last to arrive.

"So this is the Bat Cave huh?" Fusco questioned. Carter took in her surroundings, marveling that the inner sanctum of Finch's two man crusade was in plain sight. She had probably passed the old library a hundred times, never knowing what was hidden behind its exterior walls.

All business, Finch ignored Fusco and began to address the task at hand. "Mr. Reese, I will drive you to the Coronet to meet Ms. Morgan. Ms. Shaw perhaps you can get eyes on some of our Bulgarian friends. Detective Fusco, see if you can pay a visit to Dr. Sabatini and determine whether Simmons has made direct contact. Detective Carter, I can set you up here to look into any other leads on Isabella's whereabouts."

Carter glared at Finch, causing him to turn to John with a helpless expression. She knew exactly what he was attempting to do. In some ways, she found it endearing that Finch was trying to protect her but an equal part of her found it to be extremely irritating. "Absolutely not, Finch. I'm going to the Coronet."

"Joss, I don't think that's a good idea," John tried to reason with her.

"I either go with you or I go on my own." Harold and John exchanged a look, knowing they would not win this argument.

Harold gestured in exasperation to one of the back rooms of the Library. "Detective, if you go to the room on the left, you will find a wardrobe assortment. I had acquired various items for you and Ms. Shaw, so that we would be prepared if we needed to send either one of you undercover on short notice. I'll pose as your and Mr. Reese's driver, so I would suggest opting for some of the higher end clothing. You will more easily blend in with the Coronet's clientele."

"That won't be necessary, Harold. She's staying in the car," John retorted.

"We'll see about that," Joss called as she retreated in the direction Finch had indicated, ready to see what kind of taste Harold Finch had in women's clothing and accessories.

A few minutes later, John returned to the main room in a fresh suit. He turned as he heard the click of heels on the parquet floor. Carter stood before him in black stiletto Manolo Blahnik boots, a Dolce & Gabbana charcoal trench coat and a pair of over-sized black Gucci sunglasses. Her dark hair cascaded down her back. She looked more like a model than a homicide detective on a cop's salary. John was speechless.

"Cat got your tongue?" Carter asked flirtatiously. John was about to respond when Harold entered the room.

"Detective Fusco and Ms. Shaw have already left. Detective Carter, I have a new phone for you and an earpiece. John, I have a set for you as well since you saw fit to destroy your last ones when you so unceremoniously left your sick bed and disappeared." Harold gave John a disapproving stare and continued. "Are you both ready?" Carter and John nodded, following Harold out the door. John felt the sting of guilt as he watched his employer and friend lead them to the waiting car.

* * *

John strolled into the Coronet hotel bar to find Zoe already seated in the back booth, which afforded them privacy from prying eyes. She was dressed to kill in a slinky red dress that hugged every curve, leaving little to the imagination. Coolly sipping her martini, she waited for John to seat himself across from her.

"It's been awhile, John. You look tired." Zoe smiled as she plucked an olive out of her drink and placed it in her mouth.

"Looking lovely as always, Zoe. Were you able to track down that information on Belton?" John asked.

Zoe bit her bottom lip and took another sip of her drink. "Have I ever let you down?"

"Zoe, how do you know Belton? Is he a client?" John pressed her for answers.

Zoe pulled a black folder out of her Coach bag and placed it lightly on the table in front of her. "A few years ago, Belton found himself in a little trouble. He was having an affair with an eighteen year-old Eastern European prostitute. Some of his political rivals had video. I solved the problem. What's your interest in Belton?" Zoe asked.

"He can lead me to someone I very much want to find," John replied.

"John, is this related to HR? I know Belton was a strong ally of Alonzo Quinn." John didn't answer. Zoe began pushing the folder across the table to John. As he reached for the folder, Zoe pulled it back and placed her hand on top of his. She lightly rubbed circles over John's hand with her thumb as she spoke. "Listen, John. I know the last few weeks have been difficult for you. Let me help you forget about everything for tonight."

* * *

Dr. Robert Sabatini paced the length of his Greenwich Village office in frustration. He had come to work to maintain a sense of normalcy. Officer Simmons had warned Sabatini not to deviate from his usual routine.

Normally Sabatini did not spend much time in his office. It never felt right with its modern black and white décor and furniture that was more decorative than functional. It lacked the Old World style that better complimented a physician who still made house calls, carried a black alligator medical bag and wrote prescriptions by hand. He couldn't, however, bring himself to go home. Isabella wouldn't be there.

Allison and George had asked Robert to take care of his granddaughter for the week months ago. They were in Chicago at a conference designed for law enforcement, aid workers and the legal community who assisted battered women and children. How could he tell them that on his watch and because of his illicit connections, Isabella had been kidnapped? He didn't even have any bargaining chips—he didn't know the location of the detective Simmons was so anxious to find.

A soft rap on the door interrupted Sabatini's thoughts. "Doctor," his assistant, Angie called. "There is an NYPD detective here to see you." Sabatini's heart started pounding . Could the elusive Detective Carter have hunted him down? Or had someone seen the kidnapping and reported it to the NYPD? Simmons had warned no police. He went to the other side of his desk and opened the bottom right hand drawer, revealing an old Smith & Wesson revolver. He had taken an oath to save lives and he intended to save a life—Isabella's life.

He tucked the gun into his white coat pocket and called "Show the Detective in, Angie." Sabatini was disappointed when a middle aged male detective walked into his office. Suddenly recognition dawned on Sabatini. This was Detective Carter's partner.

"Hello, Dr. Sabatini. I don't know if you remember me. I'm Detective Fusco." Fusco stretched out his hand and gave the doctor's a firm shake.

"What can I do for you, Detective?" Sabatini asked.

"Doctor, there is no reason to play games. I know Patrick Simmons has your granddaughter and he wants you to tell him how to find my partner in exchange for her." Sabatini gaped at Fusco as the detective continued. "My friends and I are going to get Isabella back and take down Simmons, but we need your help."

"He said if I told anyone he would kill her. I'm sorry, Detective but I won't put her at risk. I already have my contacts searching for her."

"If you would just hear me out, Doctor. If you help us set a trap, we can get Simmons and Isabella without anyone getting hurt," Lionel attempted to reason with the doctor.

"You can't guarantee that. There is no point in pretending. I know you know who my employer is. For good or bad, I've put my faith in Elias that he will find her. I can't help you, Detective Fusco. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm expecting a call." Exasperated, Fusco walked out of the office and pulled out his phone to call Finch as he waited on the elevator.

Sabatini sunk into his office chair willing the phone to ring. When he had called Elias, attempting to gather information on the whereabouts of Detective Carter, the crime boss had seen through him. The kidnapping and Simmons' threats had come spilling out of Sabatini. The poor doctor was almost in tears as he begged Elias to trade the detective for his granddaughter. Elias had assured him he had his best men searching for Isabella. Robert Sabatini could only hope that he had made the right decision relying on Elias and sending Detective Fusco packing.

* * *

Joss Carter was thoroughly annoyed to be sitting in the back of a black town car in front of the Coronet. John had insisted on meeting Zoe alone. Although she did so grudgingly, Carter had to admit John would have more luck with Zoe if she wasn't present. That didn't mean she enjoyed listening in on the flirty banter between the two through her earpiece.

With Zoe's last statement, Carter had lost her patience. There was a twelve year-old girl missing because of her and Zoe Morgan had information that might lead to the child. And if she was being honest, she couldn't stand to listen to Zoe propositioning John for one more minute. Carter opened the car door, careful not to jostle her injured shoulder since she had left her sling back at the library. Harold called after her, but she ignored him. She strutted to the Coronet's entrance and pushed through the revolving door of the hotel lobby. Joss quickly spotted John and Zoe huddled across from each other in the far corner booth of the bar.

Carter wordlessly seated herself next to John and removed her sunglasses. "Hello, Zoe. How are you?" Joss asked with a fake smile plastered on her face.

Zoe Morgan was not usually a woman to be rendered speechless, but she also wasn't normally seated across from a ghost. "Joss?"

"Yes, Zoe. I'm alive. Now let's cut to the chase. What information do you have on Ryan Belton?"Joss questioned. Zoe placed the folder in Joss's outstretched hand. Joss silently perused the folder's contents and then closed it. "Thank you for your help, Zoe. We'll be in touch if there is anything else." Joss turned to look at John expectantly as she exited the booth.

"Thanks for the help, Zoe," John said as he stood to follow Carter. As he caught up to her, he placed a hand protectively at the small of her back as they left the hotel.

"Was that necessary, Joss?" John asked.

"If she had had her way, she would have forced you back to her room before she gave you that folder," Joss responded through gritted teeth. John couldn't hide the smirk that crossed his face at Carter's obvious jealous streak when it came to Zoe Morgan.

Joss waited as John opened the car door. She entered first and scooted across the backseat, allowing John to sit next to her. Joss then thrust the folder at Finch who was still waiting in the driver's seat.

* * *

An hour later, John and Joss were in the front seat of the town car driving to a warehouse in Queens. The old warehouse had been Belton's father's and the son inherited it when Belton, Sr. died six months ago. As John and Joss looked at the dilapidated building through the car window, both realized this would be an excellent place to hide a kidnapping victim or the City's most wanted.

John and Joss quietly exited the car, guns in hand, and approached the side of the building. The coast was clear. John glanced down at Carter's shoes. "Are you going to be able to move in those?" he asked gesturing at her designer boots.

"Just see if you can keep up with me," Joss retorted as she pushed her way through the side door. Joss went right and John went left, reconvening in the middle of the warehouse after confirming no one was home. As John approached Carter, something caught his eye. He walked over to one of the open shipping containers to inspect the item peeking out from beneath it. Kneeling down, John pulled the black nylon strap of a sky blue backpack.

Joss crouched beside him and unzipped the bag. Both knew who the owner had to be. Joss pulled out a pre-algebra book and opened the cover. The name Isabella O'Malley was written in pink, surrounded by hearts. "So we know she was here," Joss stated. Before John could answer, they heard gunfire approaching their location. John grabbed Joss's hand and ran for the nearest walk-in shipping container.

They both ducked inside, guns trained at the entrance, and continued to listen. It sounded as if the gunfire was retreating, but they then heard a single set of footsteps running towards their hiding spot. The intruder dived into the container, not noticing it was already occupied. Joss and John remained still in the back corner, hidden in the shadows. They aimed their guns at the new occupant.

The intruder noticed the movement as the sliver of outside light shifted. He pulled out his flashlight and shined it on Carter and Reese, letting out a laugh as the light illuminated them.

"Fancy meeting you two here."

"Tony?" Carter asked incredulously.

"The one and only. How are you Joss? Looking hot as usual." Tony Marconi replied with a grin.

Carter ignored the comment and placed a hand on John, forcing him to lower the gun he still had trained on Marconi. "What are you doing here?" Carter questioned.

"I imagine the same thing you and Mr. Personality are. Elias doesn't take kindly when our allies' families are targeted, especially kids. I have orders to find Isabella O'Malley and take out Simmons," Marconi responded.

"So I'm assuming the gunfire was for you?" Carter inquired.

Tony winked at Carter, "The Bulgarians may have the numbers but they're dumb. The coast should be clear. The last I saw them, they were running after one of my men in our SUV, headed uptown." Tony led the trio from the shipping container. As Carter stepped down, her heel wedged in the gap between the container and the floor, causing her to lurch forward. Tony stepped in catching her before she hit the ground. John's cat-like reflexes, however, had the two separated before Carter could recognize she had avoided hitting the floor.

Carter raised her eyebrows at John and then turned her focus back to Marconi. He continued to watch the two with a smirk on his face, noticing the possessive arm John still had wrapped securely around Carter's waist. John asked in a gruff voice "Have you had any sign of the girl?"

"No, I think they've already handed her off to Simmons or one of his HR cronies," Marconi responded. "Well, as fun as this has been, I need to report back to the boss." Marconi began to saunter away and then stopped. He walked back to Joss and paused in front of her. As Marconi reached into his pocket, Joss could see in her peripheral vision, John's hand go to his gun. Marconi pulled out a burner phone and placed it in Joss's hand. "Since we're all on the same team for this one." With that comment, he stalked to the entrance and disappeared from sight.

Joss could hear John mumble under his breath "He's a piece of work." She had to stifle a laugh. John reached up and touched his earpiece. "Yes, Finch."

"I received a call from Detective Fusco. Sabatini has apparently placed his faith in Elias. He is refusing to help us," Finch informed his asset. "Did you have any luck at the warehouse?"

"It seems that Elias is running down the same leads we are. Scarface was here but no Isabella or Simmons. We found the girl's backpack but she's long gone now. It looks like I'm going to have to pay Belton a visit. Maybe dangle him off a building," John said as he turned and grinned at Carter.

"Head back to the Library, Mr. Reese. I think it is time we regroup," Finch requested and disconnected the call.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own Person of Interest or its characters. If I did, clearly Carter would not be dead and there would be Careese moments in every show.

A/N: Thank you so much for the response to the last chapter. Special thanks to the encouraging PMs from mschessplayer and Nkhen. You both are awesome. Well, I hope you like this one. Things are coming to a conclusion. I think they'll probably be two more chapters and an epilogue.

Chapter 13

December 10, 2013

Team Machine was exhausted. Shaw had been chasing leads on the Bulgarians all around town. Fusco had been monitoring any official leads through the NYPD and Carter and Reese had continued to search for other properties connected to Belton that might afford Simmons a hiding place. With all of their efforts, they had come up empty; they were no closer to finding Isabella and Simmons.

Ryan Belton was the only lead, and they all decided that Reese would have to take a more direct approach with Belton. Finch discovered that Ryan Belton was hosting an early fundraiser for his upcoming political campaign. Speculation ran wild that Belton was throwing his hat into the ring for mayor, running on an anti-corruption platform. He clearly had an appreciation for irony.

With a few keystrokes and a phone call, John Rooney and Samantha Sampson would be attending the $800 per ticket meet and greet at a SoHo art gallery. John had already arranged for them to meet Zoe at a bar close to the gallery, so that she could make the introductions once they arrived. All agreed that Finch and Carter would monitor the soiree from a car parked two blocks away. Carter knew there was too great a chance that someone might recognize her. Belton clearly had connections on the police force.

Both Reese and Shaw walked into the main room of The Library, in black tie attire. Reese was in a classic black tux and Shaw was wearing a slinky black dress. Finch began to pack up his equipment so that he would be a mobile source of information for his assets. "Mr. Reese, I haven't seen Detective Carter in awhile," Finch stated.

"I'll go check on her, Finch." John proceeded to the back bedroom he had used on occasion while working a number. He cracked the door open and first noticed Carter's designer boots discarded on the floor. Next was the charcoal trench. And then sprawled on the bed lay Jocelyn Carter. He could tell by her body position she had only intended to rest her eyes. Her earpiece and phone rested on the bedside table. He smoothed her hair from her face and placed a kiss on her cheek. He walked to the desk in the room, looking for a pen and paper. Leaving a note next to her phone, he covered her with a blanket and closed the door behind him."

As he rejoined Finch and Shaw, Finch asked "Where's Detective Carter?"

"Change of plans, Finch. You and Carter are going to work from The Library. There is no reason to have you two in a cramped car. She's asleep. She's been pushing herself too hard and is going to end up back in the hospital if she doesn't get some rest. Once Shaw and I get the information we need, we'll meet here and regroup." Reese turned to Shaw holding out an arm "You ready?"

Shaw ignored the proffered arm and stalked past Reese, "Let's get the hobnobbing over with. It's no fun if you don't get to shoot anyone."

Finch shook his head "Good luck, Mr. Reese."

* * *

Lionel Fusco normally hated being out of the action, however, he knew his assignment was just as important as Reese and Shaw's appearance at the fundraiser. Fusco lightly rapped on the door of the small apartment in Queens. He heard a male voice call out and the shuffling of feet as the occupant came to the door.

"Hi, Lionel. You're right on time."

"How are you, Paul? Thanks for driving out and picking up the boys." Fusco looked around, confirming the boys were not in the room. In a lower voice he continued "Things were heating up in the Simmons investigation and I needed to be here."

"I understand," Paul responded. "I should be thanking you. Taylor is like a new kid since spending the weekend with Lee and your parents. I think getting out of the City and away from so many memories of his mom was just what he needed. God knows we both needed a break from the grief."

"How are you guys doing?" Fusco asked guiltily.

"Honestly, Lionel, I don't see how Joss did it. She seemed to have it all together. She knew what Taylor was thinking with a look. Taylor won't talk to me. He's so angry, and if I'm honest, I'm angry too. I know I shouldn't be, but I'm angry at her for leaving us."

"Listen, Paul. You and Taylor are still getting to know each other again and you have the added stress of Joss's loss. You'll get there. Things will get better. If I can do anything for you two—maybe pick Taylor up once a week? She was more than a partner to me. She became family which makes you two family," Lionel responded.

"I've ordered a couple of pizzas and the boys are holed up in Taylor's room playing the video games they were deprived of over the weekend. You and Lee want to join us for dinner?"

"Sounds great," Fusco responded. Fusco placed his coat on the couch and took a deep breath. Paul Carter had no idea that his world was about to be turned upside down . . . again.

* * *

Carter awoke with a start and noticed the room had turned dark since she had been asleep. She had only intended to briefly rest her eyes. Why had no one woken her? She rubbed her tired eyes and groaned as she sat up. Her entire body hurt. She knew it was from pushing herself too hard since she had awoken from her coma. She fumbled in the dark for her phone and turned on the bedside lamp. Nestled under her phone was a note in a familiar handwriting.

_Joss, _

_Please don't be mad at me for not waking you. Shaw and I have left for the fundraiser. You've been pushing yourself too hard and I didn't want you to end up in the hospital again. I know that you need to finish this with Simmons and please know that I'm not trying to cut you out of this. There is nothing you and Finch can do in the car that you can't do at The Library. Once we have the information from Belton, I'll come back and get you. Please trust me. We're in this together._

_John_

With a note like that, how could she be mad? Damn that man. He knew exactly how to work her. Carter tucked the note in her pocket, picked up her phone and earpiece, and went to find Finch.

* * *

John offered his arm to Zoe as they checked in at the door. He turned to eye Shaw who had already disappeared into the crowd. Belton was surrounded by people at the moment. John grabbed two glasses of champagne off of a passing tray and handed one to Zoe, not moving his gaze from his quarry. Zoe leaned into John, determined that she was going to say her piece. "I once told you there wasn't a woman who could fix you. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't signing up to be her but she is isn't she?"

John glared at Zoe "This is not the time for this, Zoe."

"Let me finish what I have to say, John." Exasperated that she would bring this up now, John turned to face her. "Just know what you're getting into. She's not like us. She'll want it all, John—can you give her that?" Zoe then plastered on her party face, took his arm and led them to the host of the party, Ryan Belton.

"Zoe," Belton called in greeting, kissing Zoe on the cheek. "I didn't think you would make it tonight."

"My schedule cleared. Ryan, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, John Rooney."

John extended a hand, giving Belton a firm handshake. "It is a pleasure to meet you Councilman. I've been watching your career for some time and am very impressed with your record on the City Council," John stated.

Zoe leaned into Belton and whispered in his ear. "He's looking to make a big donation to your campaign." As she leaned back, she gave Belton a classic Zoe smile and a wink.

"Mr. Rooney, perhaps we should step into the lounge area, where we can have a more private conversation?" Belton schmoozed.

"Lead the way, Councilman," John said and motioned. He then leaned into Zoe and whispered "Thank you." Zoe knew the thank you was more than about tonight. It was a goodbye to the relationship they had once had. It was a thank you for being there for him, but he no longer needed her in that way. She watched him retreat, knowing he was the only man she had ever met that would have tempted her into trying for a real relationship. But clearly she wasn't that woman for him.

* * *

All Finch was getting from Shaw and Reese was static. In frustration, he turned down the speaker on his computer. He started to type in commands, trying to locate the source of the interference, but was distracted by the green blip on his computer screen representing Gina Belton. She was nowhere near the SoHo gallery hosting her husband's fundraiser. "Why would Mrs. Belton be in the old manufacturing district by the river this time of night?" Finch asked aloud.

Carter tapped her earpiece shutting off the static filled connection with John, Shaw and Belton. "What did you say Finch?" Carter got up from her seat and went to look over Finch's shoulder at the screen. "Who are you tracking?"

"Gina Belton," Finch responded. "Oh my!" Finch continued to type furiously. "I missed it, Detective. Belton isn't working with Simmons. His wife is. I can't believe I didn't see it."

"What do you mean, Finch?" Joss questioned.

"It's all here. Gina Belton nee Markem is the daughter of Simmons' training officer. Her father, Jacob Markem died of cancer six years ago. It looks like right around that time Gina and Simmons reconnected. They have been meeting at hotels all over the city at least once a month for the last five years," Finch explained.

"Is that her current location?" Carter asked, pointing to the screen. Finch nodded. Suddenly Carter realized what had happened. "Oh my God. She set her husband up as a distraction. She's been taking the money from Belton's account and delivering it to Simmons. This must be his getaway money. Finch we have to get there now. This may be our only chance to get to Isabella." Carter grabbed her coat and firearm, and then turned to stare expectantly at Finch.

Finch fumbled for the car keys sitting on his desk. "I just need to call Mr. Reese."

"Finch, there is no time. You can call him on the way, but they are at least thirty minutes from Gina Belton's location. We can make it ten." Finch followed her out of the door, a sense of dread overcoming him.

Finch sped down the empty streets by the river, ignoring stop signs and traffic lights. He shut off the headlights as he got closer to the empty factory. He slowed the car and pulled up to the curb. Carter exited the passenger side. Finch reached for the door and Carter shook her head. "No, Finch. I need you to stay down here. If the girl is in there, I'll need you to get her out of here."

Finch opened his mouth to protest, but she was already slipping through the door of the empty building.

* * *

John stealthily followed Belton into the empty VIP lounge and locked the door behind him. Belton went to pour himself a drink. As he took a sip, he turned to face John and found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

Belton dropped his glass and put his hands up in surrender. "What's this about? Who are you? What do you want?"

"I want information, Mr. Belton and I don't have time to play games. Where are you meeting Patrick Simmons?" John questioned.

"I don't know what you're talking about. My dealings were with Alonzo Quinn, not Simmons," Belton responded. Belton turned around startled as Shaw climbed in through the window.

"You better talk quickly, if you want to live. I poisoned your drink," Shaw stated matter-of-factly.

Panicked Belton looked on the verge of tears. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've only met Patrick Simmons a handful of times. I don't know where he is."

John shoved his phone in front of Belton. "Then how do you explain all of these large cash withdrawals from your account?" Belton squinted at the screen.

"I hardly use that account. That's Gina's discretionary account—where she pulls money to do all of her shopping. She must know where Simmons is. They were friends when they were younger—her father was his training officer," Belton choked out.

"Where is she now?" Shaw insisted.

"I don't know. She should have been here an hour ago," Belton explained.

Shaw and Reese both instantly reached for their earpieces and phones. What the hell? No service? They bolted for the door and only turned as they heard a thud as Belton hit the floor. John raised an eyebrow at Shaw. "Don't look at me like that. He's not dead but he'll have a hell of a hangover in the morning, Shaw explained.

* * *

"Did you have to pick such a cold drop location, Patrick?" Gina Belton complained.

"Is it all there?" Simmons growled.

"$500,000 all in small bills as requested," Gina Belton responded as she dropped the black duffle bag onto the snow covered rooftop. "Who's the brat?" she asked pointing to the young girl shivering with her hands bound.

"An insurance policy. I'll be in touch, Gina," Simmons responded. Gina started to protest being put off. He was supposed to take her with him. Before she could object to her dismissal, the door opened.

"Hold it right there, Simmons!" Carter yelled, gun aimed at him, as she made her way onto the rooftop. Simmons grabbed Isabella, his gun held to her head.

"As you know, Carter, I'm a desperate man. You wouldn't want me to send her off this roof would you?" Both Carter and Simmons ignored Gina Belton as she took the duffle bag and bolted for the door.

"There's no reason to hurt that girl, Simmons. Let her go. She has nothing to do with this. You win."

"I win? Are you serious? I've lost everything. You couldn't have left it well enough alone. Put the gun down, Carter or the kid is dead."

Carter slowly leaned down, placing her gun gently on the snow covered roof. She carefully stood back up, hands in the air. Simmons pushed Isabella to the ground, leveling the gun at Carter. Carter walked towards the other side of the roof, drawing Simmons with her. Isabella had an unobstructed path to the door. Unfortunately, in doing so, Carter placed herself farther away from her discarded gun that was now behind Simmons.

Calmly, Carter focused on Isabella. "Isabella, honey. I want you to get up and go down the stairs you came up. I'm a police officer. There is a nice man downstairs with glasses in a black car. He is going to take you home to your grandfather."

Isabella whimpered and then picked herself up off the ground and stumbled to the door. She looked back with tears in her eyes. "Thank you," she said softly. Carter breathed a sigh of relief as she heard the girl's footsteps making their way down the stairs of the factory.

Carter touched her earpiece. "Finch, she's coming out to you."

"Detective, are you ok?" Finch asked worriedly.

"Who the hell are you talking to, bitch?" Simmons growled.

Finch's heart stopped when he heard Patrick Simmons through his connection with Carter. His phone beeped; it was John. "Finch, where are you? What's going on?" John asked.

"John, thank God. I've been trying to reach you. I'm at an abandoned factory on Russell Street, by the river. Get here as quickly as you can. Detective Carter is alone on the roof with Simmons."

John's blood ran cold. He turned to Shaw. "Hurry, Carter found Simmons." Shaw pushed the gas pedal as far down as it would go as she sped through the deserted streets. "Finch patch me through to her earpiece."

John could hear her voice "Simmons, it's over. You can walk away."

"That's right. I can and will walk away, but you won't." Simmons leveled the gun at Carter's head.

"Joss, can you hear me?" John asked.

Carter was surprised when she heard John's voice through her earpiece. "John?"

"Is that Romeo? You can tell him he's next," Simmons snarled.

Time seemed to slow down as Carter stared at Simmons' gun and heard John calling her name. "Joss, stall him. I'm almost there."

Joss choked back the emotion that she knew he would hear in her voice. "It's too late, John. I'm sorry, but I couldn't let him hurt a child. I want you to know that the answer to your question is yes. I do love you."

Joss squeezed her eyes shut as Simmons finger twitched on the trigger.

Then John heard the gun shot ring out.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own Person of Interest or its characters.

Chapter 14

December 10, 2013

The moment John heard the gunshot, the person he had become since meeting Joss and Finch died. The 'good man' Joss had seen became the calculated killer. He ripped the earpiece from his ear and threw it into the floorboard, crushing it under his foot. He turned a steely gaze on Shaw. "Simmons is mine. Is that understood?" Shaw knew better than to argue with the man in the passenger seat. She quietly nodded as she stopped the car in front of the Russell Street factory.

Both exited the car silently, and made their way up the steps of the factory, guns in hand.

* * *

After hearing the gunshot, Joss Carter stood frozen. She slowly cracked her eyes open, shocked as she realized she was still breathing, still standing. Her eyes immediately went to Simmons, sprawled on the rooftop, a gunshot wound to his back. Blood had already seeped through his coat and had begun to stain the snow covered roof crimson. Carter kicked his gun away and leaned down to check for a pulse. Simmons was dead.

Carter's gaze then lifted to the loan figure on the rooftop. Harold Finch stood unmoving, Carter's gun still in his trembling hand. Cautiously, Carter approached Finch and placed a hand over his. She gently took the weapon from his grasp and placed it on the ground. "Harold, are you ok?" Finch slowly nodded his head. Carter placed a comforting arm around his shoulders. "Thank you, Harold."

As Joss reached to tap her earpiece, they both turned to see John Reese and Sam Shaw burst through the door. John's ice blue eyes blazed as he searched the roof for Simmons, only to come face to face with a living, breathing Jocelyn Carter. Without a word, John walked to Carter and pulled her to him. He held her so tightly Carter could hardly breathe. He pressed his cheek against hers and she could feel his tears, splashing onto her skin.

Shaw stalked across the roof to Simmons' body and verified what Joss already knew. Simmons was dead. She turned to a pale Harold Finch and placed a steadying arm around him. "You're not going to pass out on me are you, Harold?" Shaw asked.

Hearing Shaw's voice broke Carter from her reverie. She tried to slightly pull away from John but his grip got tighter. She whispered into his ear "John, we need to take care of Harold. He killed Simmons and may be in shock." John reluctantly released Joss, still maintaining a grip on her hand. Turning to Harold, John could hardly speak because of his overwhelming emotions. "Thank you, Harold." He said quietly. Harold inclined his head towards Reese. He began to try to speak, when the rooftop door opened for the sixth time that night.

"It looks like we're a little late for the party, Tony," Carl Elias stated as he and Marconi joined Team Machine on the roof. "I see someone has ended the Simmons problem, and the child has been recovered."

For a moment, Carter had forgotten about Isabella. "Where is Isabella?" Carter asked.

Finch spoke up "She is safe, waiting in my car. She is quite shaken and ready to go home, but she is unhurt."

"We'll make sure she is safely returned to her grandfather," Elias stated.

"I'm not leaving a child with a crime boss," Carter stated emphatically.

"I'll go with him and make sure she gets home safely," Shaw volunteered.

Elias motioned to Simmons, "Tony, clean up this mess."

"Sure thing, Boss," Marconi responded. Tony walked across the rooftop, stooping to pick up Carter's discarded gun. He turned to John and Joss "I assume this is no one's personal weapon." He squinted and saw the serial number had been obliterated. He then stepped over Simmons body and emptied the clip into the dead man. Finch turned away, appearing as if he was going to be sick.

Everyone then exited the roof, John and Joss steadying Harold as they descended the stairs. Joss turned to see Marconi taking out his signature piano wire. He looped it around Simmons neck, tying it in a bow. There would be no question who was claiming responsibility for Simmons' demise. She then saw Tony retrace her route around the roof, obscuring her small boot prints.

A few minutes later, Tony Marconi exited the factory to find everyone waiting. Isabella was seated in the back of Elias's SUV with Shaw. Elias stood outside with Harold, Joss and John. Tony whistled as he approached, stopping by the entrance to pick up a black duffle bag. He threw it into the trunk of the SUV and opened the door for his boss. Elias entered the passenger side and Marconi walked around to the driver's side. With a dramatic wave, Tony got into the SUV and rolled down the window. "It's been fun. Until next time. I hope I see you, Detective, sooner rather than later." Tony winked at Joss and then pulled away from the curb.

John got into the driver's seat of Finch's car, as Joss slipped into the back with Finch. She wrapped a blanket around Finch's shoulders and took his hand. Finch turned to her "I'll be alright, Detective."

"I know, Finch. It doesn't mean that I can't take care of a friend," Joss responded. Only now, as John glanced at the two people in the backseat, did his heart rate begin to slow. The two most important people in his life were safe. They were all going home.

* * *

December 11, 2013

By the time the team reconvened at The Library, it was the wee hours of the next morning. Finch sat hunched over his computer. Bear rested loyally beside Finch, sensing something was wrong. Joss set a warm cup of tea next to Finch and readjusted the blanket around his shoulders. She gave John a worried look.

Simultaneously, Fusco and Shaw strolled through the door. Shaw announced, "The kid is safely home with the grandfather."

"And I made it to Russell Street and wiped down the car you two stole," Fusco looked accusingly at John and Shaw. "I ditched it a few blocks away. It shouldn't be connected to Simmons. I'm going to have to head out. I just got a call from Agent Moss. It appears that Patrick Simmons' body has been discovered and they have just arrested Ryan Belton in connection with his dealings with Quinn. They are still trying to locate Mrs. Belton. FBI's been real busy tonight with anonymous tips relating to HR," Fusco stated, glancing in Finch's direction. "Take care of yourself, Partner," Fusco said looking at Carter as he exited The Library.

Shaw glanced between John and Carter. Not usually one to be concerned with anyone's feelings but her own, Shaw did something completely out of character. "Why don't you two get out of here? You look like hell. I'll hold things down here. Bear and I need some quality time." She leaned down scratching Bear behind the ears.

Both John and Joss hesitated to leave Finch. Then Finch cleared his throat "I think Ms. Shaw is right. You two need to get some rest. Neither one of you is fully recovered from your injuries. We will be fine. I am going to be working here to resurrect Detective Carter. Hacking the FBI and the U.S. Marshals to create a digital trail of her entry into witness protection will keep me occupied for quite some time."

"If you're sure, Finch," Joss asked hesitantly.

Finch gestured to the door "I'm quite sure, Detective. Good night."

* * *

John and Joss remained silent on the drive to John's loft. Hands intertwined, Joss stared out of the window as John navigated the car through the streets of the city. Wearily, they ascended the stairs and John ushered her into his apartment.

John proceeded into the kitchen, asking "Do you want something to drink?" Joss remained unmoving next to the door. When he didn't get an answer, John reappeared and returned to her side. "Joss, are you okay?" Joss stepped forward and placed her hand on his cheek. She stood on tiptoes and brought her lips to meet his in a tender kiss. Slowly the kiss built in intensity, and Joss pushed John's suit jacket off of his shoulders. She then began unbuttoning his white dress shirt. John pulled away, and enveloped her small hands with his, stilling her progress.

"Joss, we've been through a lot in the past few days. I don't want to do something you'll regret. Are you sure?"

Joss leaned in, capturing his lips in another soft kiss. For a moment she looked deep into his eyes and then said "I've never been more certain." Before she could continue her assault on his lips, he had scooped her up bridal style. Joss laughed as she snuggled her head under his chin.

She fully expected John to lay her on his bed, but instead, he seated her on the edge. Her eyes widened as he knelt beside her. Before they went any further, there was something she had to know. Clasping her hands in his, ice blue eyes met chocolate brown. "Jocelyn Carter, I have never loved anyone the way I love you." They both paused for a moment, and then Joss leaned back onto the bed, pulling John with her.

* * *

A/N: So a couple of things. I am so impressed with all of the shooting theories. Honestly, I liked some of them better than mine, but I knew who would kill Simmons from the beginning, so I couldn't change it now. Secondly, I'm leaving John and Joss's night there. You'll have to use your imagination. I don't write smut—I have no ability to write it, so I will leave that to the other very talented writers in this fandom. I know this is a short chapter, but it made sense to break it up here. There will be one more chapter and then a very short epilogue. I hope this was a quick enough update for everyone. Thanks again for all of the reviews! I never thought I would hit 200!


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own Person of Interest or its characters.

Chapter 15

December 11, 2013

Joss stirred as sunlight streamed in through a slit in the curtains. She shifted only slightly relishing the feeling of safety and security with John's arms wrapped around her. He had one arm draped across her torso and his other hand was lazily combing through her dark hair. She squeezed her eyes shut and snuggled closer, not wanting to lose his warmth. "I know you're awake," John said softly.

"No, I'm not," Joss responded emphatically as she tried to prevent him from breaking the moment. She could feel his chest rise as he lightly chuckled at her refusal to move. Suddenly, John's phone began buzzing, breaking the tranquility of the two lovers.

"I have to get this," John stated as he reluctantly moved from Joss's embrace. Disappointed, Joss flopped back onto the bed, realizing how exhausted she truly was. She heard John answer, "Yes, Finch." Joss turned onto her side, her head propped on her arm as she watched John dress and continue to listen to Finch. After he had put on pants and awkwardly pulled on a t-shirt, without releasing the phone, she watched as he headed towards the kitchen. Joss sighed, leaning back on her pillow and stared at the ceiling. She knew that she was about to return to her old life, and yet it had changed so completely in the last few weeks. How could she go back?

John returned to the bedroom, carrying two cups of coffee. "Finch has everything in place for your return from the dead," he stated.

"So what's the plan?" she responded as she took the offered cup of coffee.

"Finch created a trail showing that you were secreted into witness protection on the night you were shot. Agent Moss was alerted this morning to your status. As you can imagine, he wasn't happy he was kept out of the loop, but Finch set up a data trail so complex that even the higher ups in the FBI and U.S. Marshals are not going to admit they weren't in on the operation. Moss is going to meet your handler and you at an abandoned shipping yard on Laurel Hill Boulevard to make the exchange," John explained.

"So where am I meeting the Marshal?"

"It's going to be Marshal Jennings, of course."

"John, no way. You are not going to be the one to take me to Agent Moss. That is way too risky."

"It's non-negotiable, Joss. Please let me do this. I need to do this" he said adamantly. Joss looked deeply into his blue eyes and knew she couldn't deny him this. After everything they had been through, he needed to be the one to return her to life—to bring Joss Carter back to the world of the living.

"Ok," she said softly. "But no chitchat. You turn me over to Moss and then you get out of there. How much time do we have?"

John sat down on the edge of the bed. "We have all day. We don't have to meet Moss until 6:00 tonight." He then gently pulled her in for a tender kiss.

"John, you know we have a lot to talk about. Where does all of this leave us?"

"How about we bring Joss Carter home first and then we go from there?" With his last statement, he kissed her again.

* * *

Isabella O'Malley sprinted up the stairs of her parents' townhouse. She stopped at the door and searched through her new pink backpack for her house keys. Her grandfather slowly scaled the stairs behind her. "Did you find your keys, Isabella?" She glanced back at her grandfather, noting he looked as if he had aged ten years in the last couple of days. Isabella had never seen her grandfather show much emotion. He was from a different generation, where men did not talk about or show their feelings. However, when the brunette woman and the man with the scar returned her home, her grandfather sobbed. No one had to tell her that her grandfather was involved with some dangerous people. If Isabella was anything, she was a smart kid and knew how to put two and two together.

If she was honest with herself, she felt as though the kidnapping had happened to someone else. As it occurred, it seemed like she was watching a movie of her own life. Isabella knew that if her mother and father ever found out what had happened while she was in her grandfather's care, she would never see him again and her grandfather had always been the constant in her life. With two busy, overextended parents, her grandfather was the one who came to all of her school functions and called just to hear about her day. Furthermore, the brunette woman had asked her not to say anything about the detective who saved her life. Isabella was not only a smart kid but she was loyal. She didn't know why she shouldn't say anything about the detective, but she didn't want to do anything that would get her in trouble. She had risked everything to save her life so she would keep her mouth shut.

As the events of the past couple of days, swirled in Isabella's head, she almost didn't notice the woman exiting her house. A petite blond who appeared to be in her late thirties, nearly crashed into Isabella. Startled the woman staggered back. "I'm so sorry. I didn't see you," she stated.

Before Isabella could question the woman, she continued "You must be Isabella. I'm Jenna Allen. Your mom and dad invited me to stay while I find an apartment. I'm moving from Chicago to work with your mom at the foundation." The woman gave Isabella a friendly smile and extended her hand. Isabella politely shook her hand. "Oh, and you must be Allison's father, Dr. Sabatini." Jenna moved to shake hands with Sabatini. "I'm sorry. I'm in a little bit of a hurry. I'm meeting a realtor in the Village at 3:00."

Robert Sabatini gave Jenna a warm smile. "It is very nice to meet you, Jenna."

As Jenna descended the stairs, she turned to Sabatini. "Doctor, would it be ok if I called you next week? Allison mentioned you might be looking for a nurse practitioner for your office. My passion is helping abused women and children, but unfortunately, it doesn't pay all of the bills."

Sabatini reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a card, handing it to Jenna. "You are in luck. I just had my FNP turn in her two weeks' notice. Give me a call when you get settled."

"Thank you," Jenna called over her shoulder. "It was nice meeting you Isabella."

* * *

Joss strongly gripped John's hand as he drove the black SUV to the drop off point. She never thought she would feel so nervous to see her family. John squeezed her hand. "Joss, it's going to be fine."

"What if Taylor's angry? What if he doesn't understand?"

"Joss, that boy loves you. All that is going to matter to him is that you are alive. I saw Taylor after your funeral and he was lost. I knew how he felt. He is going to be so overjoyed you are alive. Everything else will work itself out."

"You know, you're pretty good at the pep talks."

"I try." John slowed the car as another black SUV came into view. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'm going to be." John stopped the car and exited from the driver's side. He watched as Agent Moss and a female agent exited their SUV.

"Marshal Jennings?" Moss called. John approached hand outstretched, wearing his stolen marshal star. Moss firmly shook John's hand. "This is Agent Deering." The redheaded agent nodded her head in greeting. "Where's my witness?"

"Are you sure you can handle her, Moss?" John asked lightly. "She's quite a handful."

"Detective Carter and I go way back. I got to say, you boys work fast. Fooled most of us. Apparently your higher ups and mine didn't think I needed to know our star witness was alive."

"I don't get into the politics, Moss. I just follow orders." John proceeded to his SUV and opened Carter's door.

"It's good to see you, Detective," Moss stated.

"You too, Moss," Joss responded.

"Detective, we're headed to the Fed building where your family is waiting. We plan to put you in a hotel for a few days until we can get your place cleaned up. HR did a number tossing it. As I'm sure Jennings has told you, we found Simmons dead this morning. It's looking like Elias was behind it. That bad blood runs deep. Are you ready to go?"

Joss turned to John and gazed into his eyes. "Thank you for everything, Marshal."

"You're welcome, Detective. Take care of yourself and stay out of trouble." John watched as she walked away with Moss and Deering. The two agents settled Joss in the backseat. Once they had all entered their SUV, John woodenly walked to his own and waited until they pulled away. His stomach clenched as her SUV turned out of sight. He knew that she had to return to her life, but part of him wished that she could stay officially dead and then nothing would stand in the way of the life he wanted with Joss Carter.

* * *

Taylor Carter exited Marbury High School waving to his basketball teammates. They all got into awaiting cars and Taylor sighed. It looked like his dad had forgotten again. He would have to ride the subway. As Taylor started walking, he heard a car honk. He turned and smiled. "Looks like you need a ride," Lionel called.

"Thanks, Detective Fusco. Did my dad forget again?"

"Nah. I offered. Go ahead and get in. I'll throw your gear in the trunk," Lionel stated as he took Taylor's gym bag from the teen.

Taylor got into the back seat of Lionel's cruiser. "Hey, Taylor," Lee Fusco said turning half around in the front passenger seat.

"Hey, Lee. How's it going?"

"Good. How about you?"

"Ok, I guess." The boys continued to make small talk as Lionel headed for Manhattan.

"Detective Fusco, where are we going? My dad's place is the other way."

"Taylor, the FBI agent working your mom's case, asked that we all come in and talk to him. I think he has an update he wanted to share with you and your dad. I told Paul I would come get you because I was closer. He is meeting us there." Taylor's stomach flipped. Anything related to his mom still hurt. He remained quiet the rest of the ride.

Fusco parked outside of 26 Federal Plaza and all three exited the car. Fusco put a comforting arm around Taylor as they entered the building. "It's going to be ok, Taylor." As they came through the doors, they spotted Paul Carter and Agent Moss waiting in the lobby.

Taylor went to his dad and faced Moss. Moss offered his hand. "You must be Taylor. I'm Agent Moss. Thank you both for coming. If you'll follow me to my office, I'll explain why you're here." Moss allowed Paul and Taylor to walk in front towards the waiting elevators. He turned to Lionel and Lee. "Thank you for the assistance, Detective."

Fusco inclined his head. "Take care of my partner, Moss." Moss smiled and hurried to catch the Carter men. Lee looked at his dad with a questioning look on his face.

"What's going on, dad?" Lee asked.

"A miracle, Lee. A miracle." Slinging his arm around his son's shoulders, Lionel continued. "What do you say we go get some falafel?"

"Sure, Dad," Lee said quietly as they both got back into Fusco's cruiser.

Sensing something was wrong from his son's tone of voice, Fusco asked "Lee, what's wrong?"

"Dad, I can see what losing his mom has done to Taylor. What if something happens to you?"

Fusco pulled the car to a stop on a side street and turned to face Lee. "Lee, I do a dangerous job. I'm not going to lie to you. Something could happen to me, but I want you to know that I'm going to be as careful as I can. It is going to take a lot to get rid of me. And no matter what the future holds, you will always have people to care for you and love you. Do you understand me?"

Lee shook his head and swiped at his eyes. "What do you say we go and get that falafel, Dad?" Fusco smiled and pulled the car out onto the street.

* * *

Joss Carter could hear footsteps approaching as she sat waiting impatiently on Agent Moss's couch. With each step, her heart beat faster. She took a deep breath as the knob turned. Agent Moss entered first with Paul next and then Taylor. Paul froze his mouth gaping. Joss stood slowly from her seat as she locked eyes with Taylor. For a moment, Taylor couldn't move and then he couldn't move fast enough. He practically tackled his mother, wrapping his arms tightly around her and sobbing.

"Shhh, Baby. It's ok. I'm here" Joss said soothingly. Paul continued to stand silently, watching mother and son. Agent Moss slowly backed out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him to give the family some privacy.

After a few minutes, Taylor pulled back to look at his mother. Joss reached up and brushed away the tears still on his cheeks and swiped at the ones on her own. She stepped from Taylor's embrace, still keeping an arm wrapped around the teen's shoulders. "How are you Paul?"

Wordlessly, Paul gave her a tight embrace and kissed her cheek. "It's good to see you, Joss. You have no idea how much we've missed you."

Taylor turned to his mother. "How is this possible, Mom? We went to your funeral."

"We'll have plenty of time to talk about the details later, but I was shot. While I was recovering, they put me in witness protection," Joss responded.

"Did John know, Mom?" Taylor asked.

Joss's eyes widened. She didn't want to have this conversation in front of Paul. "We'll talk about everything later Taylor." The teen knew he had slipped in mentioning John in front of his dad so he quickly changed the subject.

"So, Mom, when are we going home?"

Joss smiled warmly at her son. "Soon, T. The FBI wants to keep me in a hotel for a couple of days to check the house over. Once they give the all clear, we're heading home."

"I want to stay with you at the hotel."

Joss turned to Paul as he was about to object. "How about you both come and get me settled and then head home? Taylor, a hotel is nowhere to live and you have school."

"But, Mom, I want to take care of you."

"I know, T. The best thing you can do for me, is go home with your dad and get some rest." It broke Joss's heart to see the look of hurt on Taylor's face. She turned and placed her hand on Taylor's cheek. "Taylor, I'll be here tomorrow." Taylor then hugged her fiercely.

* * *

John and Finch strolled in the crisp night air as Bear trotted along in front. Neither man spoke for a long while until Finch cleared his throat. "I arranged for the FBI to choose the Coronet for Detective Carter's temporary lodgings. I thought we would be able to keep a better watch where I already have direct access to the security feed."

"Thank you, Finch. For everything," John responded quietly.

"I fear Mr. Reese that it may have been my fault we were all in this predicament in the first place. I'm sorry The Machine didn't warn us in time, however, I do have to stand behind the principles I used in creating The Machine. John, I hope you can one day understand."

"I can respect that you are standing by your principles, Finch but I can't agree with them. We came too close to losing Carter. Can you say that if it had been Grace you wouldn't have used The Machine to the fullest extent possible to protect her?"

"Yes, I can, Mr. Reese because I have to believe that however powerful this Machine is, it cannot control all human variables. If it could, if it could control every outcome, then what is the point of living? As much faith as I have in technology, I also have faith in mankind—that there is goodness and self sacrifice in people that no machine could ever predict. Part of that faith comes from you, Mr. Reese and Detective Carter. I understand if you feel as though we can no longer work together." Both John and Finch had paused, facing each other. Bear seemed to be oblivious of the turmoil between the two men.

Before John could speak, a payphone started ringing. "Well, Finch I guess you better answer that. We have work to do."

A/N: Well, that's it except for the epilogue which I will warn you will be just a short piece of fluff. Thank you so much for reading and going on this journey with me. And thank you for all of the positive reviews. For those of you that may be scratching your heads regarding the part with Isabella and Jenna Allen, that is a lead in to the sequel I'm planning for this story. Jenna Allen will play a significant role. Thank you all again!


	16. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I do not own Person of Interest or its characters.

A/N: So originally the epilogue was going to just be a fluffy Careese moment, however a reviewer made a very good point, that there was one relationship in the story that needed some resolution. Ask and ye shall receive. This first scene is for you ravenhusker.

Epilogue

December 23, 2013

As John entered the warm diner, he immediately spotted Taylor in his usual booth. It was hard to comprehend that the last time he met the teen was a mere two weeks earlier. So much had happened since that tense meeting. John had been surprised when he checked his phone and saw Taylor's phone number on the screen. John slid into the booth facing the teen.

"I hadn't expected to hear from you, Taylor. You weren't too happy with me the last time we spoke," John stated.

Taylor stared at his hands and then looked John in the eyes. "I know that everything with Mom wasn't your fault. We've talked about a lot since she came back and she said that she was the one who put herself in danger. There was nothing you could have done. You were an easy target to blame, John."

John interrupted Taylor, "Taylor, you don't owe me any explanation. When I thought your mom was dead I did a lot of things I was not proud of. I'm sorry I couldn't have prevented all of this. There are times that I think about how things unfolded and what I could have done to change the course of events."

"John, I appreciate you giving me a pass, but my mom taught me that a real man admits when he's wrong and apologizes. I'm sorry, John. I shouldn't have blamed you. I know that you would do anything to protect my mom and this wasn't your fault. You were hurting like I was and it was unfair of me to take my anger out on you." Taylor extended his hand and John firmly shook it.

"You know a lot of men my age can't take responsibility for their mistakes and they sure won't apologize. Thank you, Taylor." The two sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes watching the patrons come and go. Taylor stood from the booth and John followed.

"Taylor, do you need a ride home?" John asked.

"No, I'm good. My dad is picking me up. We're having a guys' night. And I know you have somewhere to be. I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon, John." Taylor smiled and waved as he slipped into the cold night air. Suddenly, the door opened again and Taylor popped his head in. "Oh and John, Merry Christmas."

John smiled to himself. It certainly would be a Merry Christmas, the first he had had in longer than he cared to admit.

* * *

Joss hadn't heard from John since he left her with Agent Moss nearly two weeks ago. Both had decided that with the attention the FBI would be giving Joss, it would be best for John to stay off of their radar. Although they acknowledged it was the smart thing to do, it didn't make it any easier.

Joss had taken off for a few days after her return to straighten out her affairs and cleanup her brownstone. She also tried to get some much needed rest, but she couldn't stay away from the precinct for long. A couple of days ago, she had been approved to return to desk duty. Normally she would go stir crazy but between catching up on her cases, meeting with the AUSAs about the Quinn case and trying to spend time with Taylor, light duty was actually working out well for now.

She had received John's text message around lunchtime and had counted down the hours until their meeting. Jocelyn Carter couldn't keep the stupid grin off of her face when she read the destination on her phone for the hundredth time.

When Joss arrived, John was leaned casually against the railing, the Queensboro Bridge lit up behind him. Snowflakes had started falling again. The City was still in the grip of the polar vortex, so they had the spot to themselves. As she approached she could hear the first strains of "As Time Goes By."

"Fancy meeting you here, Detective. Waiting for someone?"

"No one in particular," she smiled as she stood next to the railing.

"Oh really?" John spun her around and into his arms, moving them in time with the music.

"You know John this is really cheesy," Joss laughed.

"And you absolutely love it because you're a sucker for romance."

"Guilty," she responded leaning her head against his shoulder as they danced under the stars. As the last notes of the song died in the air, John and Joss stared at each other for a long moment. There was still so much to discuss—so many details that had to be worked out if they could ever make a go of whatever this was. However, tonight, none of those questions mattered.

John took off his black leather glove and cupped her cheek in his hand. He tilted her head up to meet his lips. As he slowly pulled away he whispered, "Merry Christmas, Joss."

"Merry Christmas, John."


End file.
